


Within Reach

by littlebirdtold



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Oblivious Jim, Presumed Dead, and this is a warning, straight Jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:00:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebirdtold/pseuds/littlebirdtold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years into the Enterprise's voyage, Spock dies in a transporter accident on a routine mission. Jim slowly falls apart and develops an unhealthy obsession that, ultimately, brings Spock back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2010, so there are obviously no spoilers for Star Trek into Darkness.
> 
> Warning: very oblivious!Jim.

_Name: S'chn T'gai Spock  
Date of Birth: 2230.06  
Place of Birth: Vulcan, Shi'Kahr  
Rank: Commander  
Position on the USS Enterprise: First Officer, Chief Science Officer  
Date of decease: 2262.302  
Age: 32 standard years old  
Cause of decease: transporter malfunction _

 

 

  
  
Jim swallowed the huge lump in his throat, opened his eyes, and poised his stylus over the PADD. He brought it down, then stopped, his eyes stinging as he stared at the death report blankly. He could do it. He could do it, even though he wanted nothing more but to throw the goddamn PADD on the deck and stomp on it. It would be immature, childish—illogical—and he was an adult. He was the Captain.  
  
"…Captain?"  
  
Startled, he turned his gaze to Sulu and found him looking at him with a mix of pity and worry. Jim sat straighter in his chair and cleared his throat. "Yes, Mr. Sulu?"  
  
"We left the asteroid belt behind, Captain. No damage to the ship. All stations report ready for warp."  
  
Jim stared at him for a few moments before thinking that he should probably respond. "Right. Of course. Engage warp engines, Lieutenant. Warp 2."  
  
"Aye, Captain."  
  
Sulu turned back to his station and Jim leaned back in his chair, feeling weary and far too old. Maybe Bones had been right and he should have stayed in Sickbay. Maybe he just wasn't ready yet.  
  
Jim looked back at his PADD, then at his stylus.  
  
He bit his lip hard, set his jaw, and signed.  
  
His hand did not tremble as he closed the file. He was calm and collected. There was no way in hell he was crying in front of his subordinates. No fucking way.  
  
He looked around the bridge for something to focus his attention on. Everything—the bridge, stations and people sitting at them—looked strange and unfamiliar, like he was seeing them for the first time. Jim's gaze lingered on Chekov's curly head. "Mr. Chekov, check our course."  
  
"Keptin, I've already done that. We’re on course. The asteroid belt didn't alter it."  
  
"Check again, Mr. Chekov."  
  
"Yes, Keptin, " Chekov said after a moment.  
  
Jim drummed his fingers on the armrest of the command chair. He looked down at his PADD dumbly for a minute, then looked through his paperwork. He frowned. "Why don't I have the Gamma shift report, Mr. Sulu?" he said, his voice rough.  
  
Sulu's back stiffened. "With all due respect, Captain, I'm only _human_. I couldn't exactly navigate us through the asteroid belt with one hand and write the report with the other."  
  
"Hikaru!" Chekov whispered frantically, throwing a glance at Jim.  
  
Tense, unnatural silence lay heavily over the bridge. It stretched out, taut and tangible.  
  
Jim tightened his jaw, staring straight ahead. "I expect the report within an hour, First Officer."  
  
Sulu's back stiffened even more. "Yes, Captain," he said tightly.  
  
Jim stared at the main viewscreen, pretending not to notice the wary looks he was receiving. They treated him like a goddamn ticking bomb. He hated it, hated that tense atmosphere on his bridge, even though he knew he was the main cause of it.

  
He had been so proud that his bridge crew worked like a well-oiled machine, like a team. Now, not so much. Not since…  
  
Jim closed his eyes, taking deep, calming breaths and concentrating on soft beeping sounds from the stations, trying not to think. It was almost like meditation. Not real meditation, of course, not like the one Spock—  
  
Dammit.  
  
He badly wanted a drink, but after he’d landed himself in Sickbay with alcohol poisoning, Bones took away all his booze and threatened to confine him to Sickbay for months if he touched alcohol again. Mean, stupid Bones.  
  
But Bones wasn't stupid, was he? He'd been right all the time about transporters; he was the smartest of all of them. Jim was actually surprised that Bones hadn't told him 'I told you so.'  
  
But he was being unfair. Spock's death was hard on Bones, too. Despite their constant bickering, they were friends—of course, not as close as Jim and Spock were— had been —  
  
"Mr. Sulu, you have the conn," Jim croaked, rising from the command chair. Sulu's 'Yes, Captain' was almost relieved. Jim avoided looking at the science station as he made his way to the turbolift.  
  
As the turbolift doors slid closed behind him, Jim pressed his forehead against the cool wall, breathing hard. He knew he was being a shitty captain, knew that he was emotionally compromised, but he was allowed to, damn it. He lost his best friend four days ago. Sure, he was close with Bones, too, but his friendship with Spock was something else entirely.  
  
Maybe it sounded cliché, but Spock _was_ his anchor in the storm, his balance, his equal. Jim didn't know how to be the Captain of the Enterprise without Spock at his side, without Spock telling him when he was illogical, stupid, childish, irrational. He would gladly give years of his life just to hear Spock citing some regulation number whatever.  
  
He wanted Spock back. He needed him back.

 

 

  
  
* * *

 

  
  
The door slid shut behind him, and Jim looked around Spock's quarters. They still looked exactly the same as when he was here for a chess game five days ago. They still smelled the same. But not for long. The quarters were to be cleared for his new First Officer. Sulu probably was wondering why the hell it was taking so long to empty Spock's belongings from the room.  
  
Jim sat down heavily on the bed and buried his face in his hands.  
  
Sulu was his new First Officer. Doctor Kendrick was his new Chief Science Officer.  
  
A tiny, childish part of Jim that refused to die still hoped that it was just a vivid nightmare and that if he wished hard enough, he would wake up any minute to find Spock sitting at his science station.

  
Maybe, if there had been a body, it would have been easier. Maybe not.  
  
The very first day, his brain simply refused to comprehend that Spock was dead, no matter what Scotty told him. He couldn't comprehend how Spock could be dead when Spock was alive just a minute ago— Spock hailed Jim before he was beamed up. Spock was beamed up but didn't materialize on the ship. _Transporter malfunction_ , Scotty had told him, looking sick with guilt, and Jim had badly wanted to punch him. He still did.  
  
In his weaker moments, Jim wondered what if it were some other member of the away team—not Spock—who had been beamed up first. It was an awful thought and Jim loathed himself for it, but he was only human, damn it.  
  
Sighing, Jim fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He knew he was a wreck. He had to get a grip on himself. Spock wouldn't approve. Spock would have been disappointed in him. Spock had been able to function as a captain even when his mother—his whole planet—had died.  
  
Spock was strong. Jim had thought he was strong, too. He was wrong.  
  


 

 

* * *

 

  
  
Jim came awake with a gasp, his heart thumping in his chest and his face wet.  
  
It was the same goddamn dream that he had been having for the past five days. He could vividly remember being in a dark room and he knew—felt—that Spock was somewhere in the darkness. Spock was saying something to him, but Jim couldn't understand what he was saying. He searched the room blindly but couldn't find him. Jim always woke up in tears when Spock's voice was gone.  
  
Jim heaved a sigh, wiping his eyes. Fuck, he hated it. Hated what he was turning into.  
  
He doubted he could get any sleep tonight.  
  
"Computer, time," he muttered.  
  
"0435," a mechanical female voice replied.  
  
Jim dragged himself into a sitting position and thought for a moment.  
  
"What time is it on the Vulcan colony?"  
  
"1548," the computer replied.  
  
"Open a direct channel to the Vulcan colony, Captain Authorization code seven-two-alpha-three-nine. Connect me to Ambassador Sortak, access code L324."  
  
"Connecting."  
  
Jim got up from the bed and dropped into the chair in front of his computer terminal.  
  
When the strikingly familiar face appeared in front of him, Jim swallowed hard.  
  
"Jim," Ambassador Spock said. "How are you, my friend?"  
  
Jim tried to smile, but his facial muscles didn't cooperate. "So you've heard about...?"  
  
The Vulcan's expression turned grim. "I have. Sarek informed me."  
  
Of course.  
  
Jim eyed the Ambassador's face. That was how his Spock would have looked in hundred years—if he lived.  
  
"Come to the Enterprise," he blurted out. "You were a Starfleet Officer—I'm sure you can get clearance from the DTI."  
  
"Jim—"  
  
"I'm sure they'd allow you—you'd be an asset to—"  
  
"Jim."  
  
"What?" he snapped.  
  
The Ambassador gave him a long, sad look. "I am not he, Jim, and you are not my James Kirk. It would not be the same. We both know it."  
  
Jim just stared at him. His chest hurt."Yeah. I know. But—" Suddenly, he was pissed off. "But what the hell am I supposed to do? I don't fucking know how to— how to—I can't—"  
  
He could barely breathe because of the lump in his throat. He covered his eyes with a hand.  
  
"It wasn't supposed to be like this," he grated out. "He was supposed to outlive me. He was supposed to live hundreds of years. He wasn't supposed to die at fucking thirty-two."  
  
The hush that fell over the room was so palpable that he could hear his own ragged breathing.  
  
"I grieve with you," the Ambassador said finally, his voice full of pain.  
  
And for the first time, Jim really thought about how old the Ambassador was, and how he had lived over a hundred years without his James Kirk.

 

 

  
  
  
* * *

  
  
"Get up, kid."  
  
Groaning, Jim turned on his belly and buried his face in his pillow. "Go away, Bones."  
  
He heard McCoy sigh heavily. "Jim, it's not healthy to spend all your free time in bed. Please, kid, get up and let's go to the mess hall, all right? You need to eat—you’ve lost at least ten pounds."  
  
"I don't want to," Jim muttered.  
  
The mattress dipped under McCoy's weight as he sat next to him.  
  
"Jim, don't do this to yourself—to the ship. You love this ship more than anything, remember?"  
  
Yes, he loved his girl, but more than anything? Jim wasn't that sure of that anymore.  
  
"I'm not harming her, Bones. I'm still doing my job, right?"  
  
"Yes, you're doing your job, but do you know how your depression is affecting the crew morale?"  
  
"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."  
  
"Everyone is stressed and on edge. Spock's death wasn't easy on the crew, but you're making it even worse. And do you know how many crewmembers developed a transporter phobia? Forty-six percent, Jim – forty-six! We need to do something about it!"  
  
Jim chuckled harshly. "Are you blaming them for that? I hate the goddamn thing, too. I fucking hate it."  
  
McCoy sighed heavily. "Look, Jim...I know how hard it is—I was…was fond of him, too, but you need to let go. It's been weeks, Jim. You need to start living again. I know how important he was to you, but—"  
  
"You don't know."  
  
"Kid, Spock wouldn't have wanted to see you like this—"  
  
"Spock is dead," Jim said flatly. "He doesn't care."  
  
McCoy gritted his teeth, eyes flaring. "Goddammit, I don't know how to deal with you! You weren't this bad when Sam died on Deneva."  
  
Jim snorted. "You know how to lift someone's mood."  
  
"Look, Jim, I know it's hard, but— Wait. Are you wearing Spock's uniform shirt?"  
  
Jim would have blushed if he actually gave a fuck about what someone else might think.  
  
"It smells good," he said defiantly.  
  
There was a short silence.  
  
"Jim, it can't smell of anything other than laundry detergent," McCoy said very slowly, like he was talking to a small child.  
  
Jim didn't say a word.

McCoy heaved a sigh. "I think you need to see Doctor Friske, kid."  
  
"I don't need a fucking psychiatrist, Bones."  
  
"Then tell me what I can do for you! It's killing me to see you like this!"  
  
Jim thought for a few seconds.  
  
"Just give me some time," he said tiredly. "I'll be okay. Eventually."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
 _No._  
  
"Yeah. Don't worry about me."  
  
McCoy got up, sighing. "Fine."  
  
"Bones?" Jim said when McCoy reached the door. His friend stopped. "You know I love you, right? I never said it, but you knew, right?"  
  
McCoy was silent for a few moments.  
  
"Yeah, I knew. I love you, too, kid."

 

  
  
  
* * *

 

  
  
  
Jim cursed under his breath, wiping the wetness from his face. Again. It had been a variation of same dream again. He hated these dreams and the way his heart would ache after them. They were confusing as fuck and always left him miserable and feeling like he was missing something important.  
  
"Computer, time."  
  
"0316, Captain."  
  
Great. At this rate, he was going to die of exhaustion. He needed sleep. He needed something to relax him.  
  
Jim opened his eyes. "Computer, access First Officer Spock's log. Captain Authorization code seven-two-alpha-three-nine."  
  
Officer logs were personal, but if he remembered correctly, they could be accessed after the death of an officer.  
  
"Accessing."  
  
"Transfer all the data to my PADD."  
  
"Transferring. The transfer is complete."  
  
Jim reached out for his PADD and opened the transferred folder. There were around six hundred files in it, and Jim opened one of the earliest ones.  
  
A familiar voice filled the room, and Jim smiled, even though his chest hurt.  
  
He closed his eyes and just listened to Spock's low voice retelling one of their very first missions.

 

 

  
  
* * *

 

  
  
Jim took to listening to Spock's log every day after his shift.  
  
In a way, it was painful to listen, to relive everything they had gone through since the beginning of their five-year mission, but Jim couldn't make himself stop. Hearing Spock's voice let him maintain some illusion of normalcy, to keep going, to have something to look forward to.  
  
Spock's entries were mostly about missions and his science experiments, but sometimes he talked about Jim. It was funny to hear how Spock's opinion of him changed throughout their mission.  
  
 _Stardate 2258.148  
  
...I cannot fathom how my older counterpart served under James Kirk for years. There is nothing appealing about the man: he is loud, rude, ill mannered, and highly illogical. He also has no respect for other individuals' personal space. Since the beginning of our voyage, I have been touched by the Captain 109 times. When I told him to cease, he looked at me as if he did not understand what I was speaking about, said 'Sure, Spock' and clasped my shoulder, thus contradicting himself.  
  
I believe Starfleet Command made a mistake by giving the Federation Flagship to a cadet with no experience and no knowledge of appropriate behavior. A captain is not supposed to distract the bridge crew from their duties, going from station to station, and therefore lowering the crew efficiency by approximately six-point-eight percent. However, overall the crew's efficiency is greatly improved compared…_  
  
  
Well, that one kind of hurt, but it was the very beginning of their mission. Out of curiosity, Jim opened his own log.

  
  
 _Stardate 2258.148  
  
...I'm so sick of his bullshit. "Captain, I believe you should not do this, you should not that! Captain, it is illogical, it is immature, blah-blah-blah!"  
I'm so fucking sick of that. I know, I know—I'm supposed to record the Enterprise-related things, but Starfleet assured me that it's my personal log, so I can record whatever I want.  
  
Seriously, I have no idea how the hell in another universe we were best friends. 'Cause in this universe, I hate his guts, and he hates mine. And it's not like I'm not trying—I am trying._

_It just doesn't work!_

  
Jim's lips curved into a crooked smile. How stupid he'd been.

  
  
 _2258.174  
  
...I believe today the Captain has been mocking me. He held his hands clasped behind his back, raised his eyebrows at every opportunity, mimicked my speech pattern, and did not touch anyone.  
I lasted only for 6.32 hours before I confronted him.  
  
I have to admit, my control is inadequate when it comes to James Kirk. It is distasteful that he elicits emotional response from me so easily…_  
  
Jim frowned. Huh? It was kind of funny, but he couldn't remember ever doing it.

  
He opened his own log again.  
  
2258.174  
  
 _…Today I decided to be a good_ logical _Captain just to see how Spock would react.  
And you know how he reacted? He told me that my behavior was childish and uncalled for and to 'cease this farce at once, Captain.'  
  
I know, right? No matter what I do, it's always wrong in Spock's book._  
  
Jim laughed hoarsely. God, it was the worst case of miscommunication ever. They were such fools.  
  
It sounded so weird to him, because Jim couldn't remember the last time they'd misunderstood each other. They never did. They were the best command team in the Fleet—they had been.  
  
Jim's smile faded.  
  
He closed his eyes and breathed in, breathed out.

  
  
  
  
* * *

  
  
"Captain, get out of there! The building is gonna blow up in— sixteen seconds!"  
  
Jim ignored Scotty, concentrating on opening the lock. "C'mon, c'mon," he muttered under his breath, his fingers flying over the console.  
  
"Locking on your signal, Captain!"  
  
"Don't you dare," Jim growled. "There're people in there!"  
  
"But Captain, you cannae make it in time—"  
  
"That's an order, Mr. Scott."  
  
"Beam him up, Scotty!" he heard Bones' voice. "I'm pulling rank!"  
  
"Sorry, Captain," Scotty muttered before the world dissolved around Jim.  
  
"What the hell, Bones?!" Jim shouted when he materialized on the transporter pad. Everyone but Bones quickly cleared out of the room.  
  
"You tell me what the hell!" McCoy shouted back, his face red with fury. "Are you out of your mind,  _Captain?!_ You would've died if you stayed there!"  
  
"There were people behind the door," Jim said through his teeth, clenching his fists. "And now they're dead! I could have saved them!"  
  
Bones grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard. "No, you couldn't! There wasn't enough time! What the hell, Jim? Did you want to die?"  
  
When he didn't say anything, McCoy's eyes widened in horror. "Goddammit, Jim," he croaked. "You really—"  
  
"I could've saved them, Bones," Jim whispered, his throat constricting. "They would've been alive."  
  
McCoy stared at him. "You couldn't save them, Jim. You knew it, and you still went in there. Goddammit, kid... You've always been reckless, but not like that— _never_ like that. That was fucking suicide."  
  
Jim set his jaw. "Is that all, Doctor?"  
  
Bones glowered at him. "No. And I'm not talking as your CMO, I'm talking as your friend." He squeezed Jim's shoulders. "Jim, listen to me. I'm worried about you—no, I'm scared shitless of what’s happening to you. I don't recognize you anymore, kid—it's like all life was sucked out of you. I thought it would pass in a few weeks, but it's been over a month and you're only getting worse."  
  
McCoy sighed heavily. "I don't want to do it, but if you don't get a grip on yourself soon, I’ll be forced to declare you unfit for duty, because you _are_ emotionally compromised."  
  
Jim stared at him for a few moments before nodding.  
  
Returning to his quarters, Jim fell onto the bed, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Reaching for his PADD, he put Spock's log on and buried his face in the pillow.  
  


 

  
* * *

 

  
  
  
 _...It is quite fascinating. Previous data suggests that it undergoes these eruptions approximately once every fifty years..._  
  
It was dark in the room and Jim could almost pretend Spock was sitting next to his bed, telling him about his research. He loved Spock's voice—always had. It was low, rich, smooth, and just so Spock. Even when Spock was talking about the most boring stuff ever, he managed to make it sound interesting. Intimate in the darkness, it felt like Spock's voice was warm water dripping over his body, sliding over his flesh, making him tingle.  
  
 _...Assuming its eruptions have continued to occur at the same rate as those observed recently, the star will have lost approximately 20 solar masses over 10,000 years..._  
  
His eyelids became heavy, and little by little they closed, and sleep took him over.  
  
He woke up, his cock stiff, lips tingling and heart pounding. He remembered, barely, dreaming. He remembered, more vividly, _wanting_.  
  
Sighing, Jim pressed a hand against his cock, palming himself through his boxers.  
  
 _...is somewhat unstable in its luminosity..._  
  
Tugging his underwear down, he wrapped his hand around his erection and started stroking it. He was already close when he'd woken up, so it didn't take long. He was almost there, his orgasm drawing closer, and Jim squeezed his cock hard, hips lifting—  
  
 _...it has an absolute magnitude of -7.5, making it one of the most luminous stars known..._  
  
Jim's eyes popped open and he let go of his dick as if it were too hot to hold onto, sitting up so quickly that he nearly fell off the bed.  
  
Shit, he'd just been jerking off to the sound of his best friend's voice—his _dead_ best friend's voice.  
  
Jim took a deep breath, trying to come up with a rational explanation.  
  
Okay. All right. Obviously, it was just a coincidence. After all, he hadn't even noticed that the log was still on when he started jerking off. That wasn't about Spock or his voice or something. He just had woken up with a hard-on; that was all. There was nothing to freak out about. Nothing.  
  
Shaking his head at himself, Jim was back under the covers, the room dark and quiet except for Spock's low voice. Ignoring his erection, Jim closed his eyes, simply enjoying the sound of Spock's voice.  
  
 _Stardate 2259.132  
  
Today we have discovered a natural wormhole, located near Barzan II. If my calculations are correct, it is the first and only stable wormhole to ever exist, connecting the Alpha Quadrant with the Gamma Quadrant. The wormhole appears precisely every 233 minutes, which, according to the Barzan scientists, is due to radiation build up in the accretion disk; its visible burst is very brief... _  
  
Jim remembered the wormhole Spock was talking about. Spock had been very excited about it—excited by Spock's standards, which meant that he used the word 'fascinating' every minute or so. Yeah, Spock had been very excited and intense—like he always was when he came across something fascinating.  
  
His cock was becoming impossible to ignore, and, sighing, Jim reached out and turned the PADD off. Settling back on the pillows, he started jacking himself off, thinking of nothing in particular. It worked, but every time he'd get close, he'd remember Spock, and he just...couldn't do it. Dammit.   
  
Breathing hard, Jim stared at the dark ceiling. It was official: he was sick in the head. Maybe he really needed to see Doctor Friske, after all.  
  
Frustrated, horny, and pissed, Jim dragged himself off the bed, heading for the bathroom. A cold shower would deal with his problem. If he couldn't sleep and couldn't jerk off, at least he could do something productive and report early to the bridge.  


 

  
* * *

 

  
  
  
He lasted two days without listening to the log, but after watching Spock's quarters being cleared for Sulu—Spock's all belongings packed and moved to the storage room—Jim broke down and put it on again. Yes, maybe it was unhealthy as fuck, but he needed Spock in his life and the log was the only way he could have him.  
  
Jim was immensely relieved to find out that Spock's voice didn't turn him on. Spock's voice wasn't doing anything for him except causing a dull ache in his chest, which was a usual thing these days. He wasn't some kind of pervert. Obviously it had been just a one-time thing, just weird stuff that could happen to anyone.

He wasn't sick.  
  


 

 

  
* * *

  
  
  
Jim woke up in tears—again—and heaved a frustrated sigh.  
  
Goddamn dream. He was sick of them, sick of it, sick of himself. He'd never thought he would turn into such a cry-baby.  
  
Reaching for the PADD, he skipped a few hundreds files and chose the most recent entry. He smiled when Spock's low voice filled the room.

  
  
 _Stardate 2262.299  
  
… I also have made significant progress with the secondary buffer. The simulations were successful, and if the beta version proves itself in practice, I shall suggest the modification to Jim. I believe the modification will increase the safety of transporter travel by approximately seventy-six percent..._  
  
Huh? Spock was working on the transporter a few days before the accident?  
  
"Computer, lights."  
  
Jim listened to the recording again to make sure that his sleep-deprived mind had understood it correctly, then listened to previous entries until he found more information in an entry dated two months ago.  
  
 _Stardate 2262.278  
  
...I am working on a modification to the transporter system that should prevent loss or misinterpretation of a pattern. My intention is to create a secondary buffer that will hold the matter stream for a longer period of time than the pattern buffer in case rematerialization is impossible at the moment or if there is an error with rematerialization due to ion storms and transporter malfunctions. Taking precautions is only logical._  
  
Jim stared at the PADD, his chest hurting. If only Spock had finished the project a little earlier, he would have been alive. If only—  
  
But what if Spock had finished the project? He did intend to install the beta version, after all.  
  
His heart beating in his ears, Jim jumped off the bed and quickly dressed.  
 _Calm the fuck down,_  he told himself.  _Don't get your hopes up._  
  
When he reached the door, a thought struck him and his shoulders sagged. He was being pathetic. If Spock had implemented such a subroutine, Scotty would have noticed, wouldn't he?  
  
But. But if there was even a tiny chance that Spock was alive…  
  
Jim set his jaw. "Computer, what is Lieutenant Scott's location?"

 

  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Scotty frowned when Jim finished.  
  
"But it should've been impossible, Captain! Inert matter can only remain in the pattern buffer for seven minutes before becoming irretrievably lost! And if a person is in the matter stream for too long, his or her pattern would degrade to the point that rematerialization is no longer possible!"  
  
Jim sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Yeah, I know, but Spock was working on it and simulations were positive."  
  
Scotty shook his head. "But it's against all the laws of physics!"  
  
"Scotty, how many times you told me that but still managed to pull a miracle out of your ass?"  
  
Scotty sighed. "Too many."  
  
"Look, let's assume that Spock found a way to keep a pattern from degrading. If that was the case, could he install the modification without you noticing it?"  
  
"Well… The Commander had an access to the transporter system—since he was the Chief Science Officer and all—and often tweaked things here and there. I usually never questioned it, 'cause Commander Spock was the only one who knew the ship as well as me."  
  
Jim's throat constricted at the use of the past tense. "But didn't you check the transporter after the incident?"  
  
Scotty rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, well…Yeah, I did, but after the malfunction, the transporter system automatically reset itself to default settings, so who knows…"  
  
"But now, when you know what to look for, you can check what he tweaked, right?"  
  
Scotty nodded, but he looked very dubious. "Yeah, but—"  
  
"Do it," Jim said in a tone that would bear no argument.

  
  
  
* * *

 

 

  
  
Jim paced back and forth in the transporter room while he waited for Scotty's verdict. He was practically shaking with a mix of exhaustion, excitement, hope and dread.  
  
No one was here but them. Gamma shift was quiet as usual.  
  
It's against all the laws of physics, Jim reminded himself, preparing for the worst. He couldn't let himself hope too much.  
  
"Holy shit," Scotty breathed.  
  
Jim whirled to him, his heart hammering in his chest. "What?"  
  
Scotty's gaze was glued to the screen. "You were right, Captain! There is a subroutine. I don't even know how I haven't noticed it before!"  
  
Jim jumped to his side. "And?" he said impatiently.  
  
Scotty frowned. "It's complicated… Looks like the Commander installed a modification that is intended to copy the matter stream from the pattern buffer to some secondary buffer if there's an error with rematerialization. It seems Mr. Spock really found a way to keep the pattern from degrading by locking the secondary buffer into a level 4 diagnostic cycle… I've never thought of something like that, but that could actually work…"  
  
Jim's heart swelled in his chest. "You mean… he could be alive?" he managed.  
  
Scotty bit his lip, his fingers flying over the controls. "I dunno, Captain…It might've failed. In theory, it could work…"  
  
"But can't you check if there's a pattern in the secondary buffer?"  
  
Scotty was frowning, his gaze still on the screen. "I'm working on it, Captain. I don't know where the secondary buffer is in the first place, so it's kinda—“ His face lit up. “Found it!"  
  
"And? Is there a pattern?" Jim croaked.  
  
Scotty eyed the screen for what felt like ages before grinning even wider. "Yes, there is!"  
  
"And?" Jim said, his heart in his throat. "Is it Spock? What about degradation?"  
  
"One moment, lad…" Scotty said, his fingers flickering over the keyboard.  
  
He froze, and Jim felt a cold dread fill his stomach.  
  
Scotty turned his head and beamed at him. "The pattern suffered less than 0.00002% degradation! It's the Commander, Captain!"  
  
Jim stared at Scotty for a few moments, before turning his back to him and covering his face with his trembling hands. His heart felt like it was about to leap out of his chest, his eyes were burning, and he felt like crying and laughing all at once.  
  
Son of a bitch. That son of a bitch.  
  
"So we can rematerialize him with no problem?" he managed.  
  
"Aye, Captain!"  
  
"Hail Bones. Tell him to bring a medical team—just in case. We're rematerializing Spock in ten minutes. I'll be back soon," Jim said and almost ran towards the nearest bathroom. He needed to collect himself, or he was going to make a scene.  
  
Gripping the sink with his hands, Jim stared at himself in the mirror, his bloodshot eyes wide open. Spock. Spock was alive. In a few minutes he was going to see him again.  
  
Turning on a tap, he splashed his face with cold water.  
  
 _Goddammit, get a grip, Kirk._

  
  
* * *

  
  
When he returned to the transporter room, Bones was already there with a few nurses. Bones seemed to sense that he was barely holding himself together and wisely didn't say anything.  
  
Jim nodded at Scotty and turned to the transporter platform, his trembling hands clenched into fists.  
  
He still made a scene.  
  
The moment Spock materialized on the transporter pad, Jim was at his side, hugging the hell out of him, nuzzling his ear and neck, pulling him impossibly tighter against him. Spock was alive, he was fucking alive—warm, breathing, and—  
  
"Goddammit, kid, quit doing an octopus impression! I need to take readings!"  
  
Jim clung to Spock tighter, refusing to let go. Screw Bones, screw the medics, screw Scotty witnessing all of that. Spock was back, Spock was alive, and that was all that mattered.  
  
"Jim, what is the matter?" Spock said.  
  
Frowning, Jim pulled away from Spock and stepped a few steps back, letting Bones do his job.  
  
Spock was frowning ever so slightly, a puzzled look on his face.  
  
Jim let out a harsh chuckle, wiping discreetly at his eyes.  
  
Of course. For Spock, it had been only a minute since they talked. For Jim, it had been thirty-nine days without him.  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

  
As usual, news travelled fast on the Enterprise, so by morning the ship was buzzing with excitement. Using every excuse imaginable, crewmembers came to the bridge just to see their First Officer and to say how happy they were to have him back. It would be funny watching Spock's bewilderment at all the attention directed at him if Jim weren't so happy to see Spock at his station.  
  
Bones was on the bridge, too. He’d been annoyed that Spock refused to go to sickbay because he was 'perfectly healthy, Doctor', so now he was 'monitoring the hobgoblin's condition'—not that Jim believed Bones for a second.  
  
McCoy put a hand on the back of Jim's chair. "It's good to see you smiling, kid. I almost forgot what it looked like."  
  
"Quit dramatizing, Bones," Jim said, smiling and turning the chair slightly to look at Spock.  
  
"I'm not dramatizing. You looked like a zombie, Jim. It was like your eyes were dead."  
  
As though feeling his gaze, Spock turned his head. Jim beamed at him, badly wanting to go over, but he’d already done it six times since the beginning of the shift and he didn't want to look too clingy—er, more clingy than he already was. Spock threw him a questioning look tinged with concern.  
  
"But you still look like shit, kid," Bones added, frowning. "Hope you'll get some sleep, now that he's back."  
  
Jim barely heard his friend—to his excitement, Spock stood up and walked to the command chair.  
  
"I must agree with Doctor McCoy, Captain," he said, then looked at Bones' hand on Jim's chair with a slight frown. With an eye-roll, Bones removed it, and Spock's hand took its place. "You look as though you have not slept at all since my—"  
  
"Death," Bones supplied helpfully.  
  
"—accident. You have also lost approximately eleven pounds."  
  
Jim smiled sheepishly "Um, I'm sorry?"  
  
"As you should be," Spock said, giving him a disapproving look, and Bones nodded in agreement.  
  
Jim rolled his eyes. Even after four years, his health was practically the only thing they agreed on.  
  
"My 'death' is not a reason to be irresponsible when it comes to your own health."  
  
Jim grinned. "Uh-huh."  
  
Spock narrowed his eyes. "You are not taking my words seriously, Jim."  
  
Jim smiled at him. "Just missed you lecturing me. Come to my room this evening? We can hang out and do stuff—“ He grinned wider. “And you can give me more lectures."  
  
Spock's eyes softened. "Of course."  
  
"2100?"  
  
"Very well."

 

 

  
* * *

 

  
  
  
When Jim returned to his room after the end of the shift, the first thing he did was to delete Spock's log from his PADD. He didn't need it anymore. Everything would go back to normal now. He could pretend that nothing had happened, that the last month was just a bad, bad dream.  
  
Jim rubbed at his eyes, exhausted from the lack of sleep and emotional overload. A nap sounded fantastic, so after taking a shower and stripping down to his boxers, heclimbed into the bed. The minute his head touched the pillow he was fast asleep.  
  
"...Jim, wake up...."  
  
Someone was shaking him, and Jim woke up with a start.  
  
Seeing Spock looming over him, Jim took a shaky breath in. Right. Spock was alive.  
  
Alive.  
  
"You were having a nightmare," Spock said, taking a seat next to him on the bed.  
  
Jim smiled, hoping that Spock didn't notice that his eyes were wet. "Just a bad dream."  
  
"You were saying my name," Spock said, frowning. "And you were crying."  
  
Jim rolled his eyes, cringing on the inside. "Just a nightmare, Spock. Can we please pretend it never happened?"  
  
"No, we cannot. I am worried about you. It is evident that your physical and psychological conditions are far from optimal. Have you seen Doctor—"  
  
"If you say Friske, I'll punch you," Jim threatened.  
  
Spock's eyebrows furrowed. "If you do not wish for professional help, tell me what I can do for you."  
  
"Stay?" The word was out before Jim could think about it and he cringed, hating how small his voice sounded. Fucking hell, what had he become? He didn't recognize himself.  
  
Spock didn't answer immediately. "I presume you wish for me to share your bed for the night?"  
  
"Well… yeah. Just for tonight.” Jim shrugged. “It looks like my subconscious still can't believe you're back."  
  
"Very well."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Spock nodded and stood up. "If it is beneficial for your sufficient rest, I shall share your bed. I will return in approximately fourteen minutes."  
  
Jim nodded, and Spock disappeared into his quarters—which Jim had ordered Sulu to vacate immediately—through their shared bathroom.  
  
"Thanks," Jim muttered, feeling both embarrassed and delighted, when Spock slid under the covers in his pajamas. "Computer, lights out."  
  
"Do not thank me," Spock said, pulling the covers over himself, even though it was very warm in the room—Jim had raised the temperature for Spock's sake. Jim hoped that the fact that he was only in his boxers wasn't weirding Spock out, because he sure as hell was not going to wear his pajamas in this heat.  
  
"Jim?" Spock said quietly, breaking the silence.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I was wondering how you learned about the modification. Mr. Scott told me that it was you who insisted on checking the transporter system. He also expressed regret that he had not inspected the transporter more thoroughly after the incident—apparently, quite illogically, he felt betrayed by the machine and did not even wish to look at it."  
  
Jim's heart started to beat faster. "I... I listened to your log."  
  
He felt Spock stiffen beside him. "Why did you listen to my personal log?"  
  
Jim wondered if he could get away with saying that he had listened to it because he just knew that he would find something useful there. Probably yes, but he didn't want to lie to Spock—Jim always felt terrible when he did and usually ended up telling the truth anyway.  
  
"I missed you," he said simply, feeling sort of awkward and girly, but if the last thirty-nine days had taught him anything, it was that life was too short for the guys-don't-talk-about-feelings crap.  
  
"I just—Don't you dare to do that again—don't you dare to die again and—" He choked on his own words as they seemed to trip over themselves across his tongue.  
  
Spock was silent for a moment before murmuring, "Jim," and tugging him closer.  
  
Jim went into his arms eagerly, burying his face into the crook of Spock's neck and wrapping himself around him, their legs and arms tangling. The half-Vulcan was the last person he’d expect to enjoy cuddling, but he wasn’t going to question it. And God, he felt like he wanted to crawl inside Spock and never, ever leave.  
  
"I cannot promise you not to die," Spock said, his warm breath brushing his ear. Jim felt a shiver run down his spine, his cock twitching. He pulled his hips away a little, making a mental note to get laid during the next shore leave. It had been months -- no wonder his sex-deprived body was confused.  
  
He forced his thoughts away from horniness and onto something less complicated. "So, did I do a good job of keeping the ship in one piece in your absence?" he teased.  
  
Spock unexpectedly stiffened beside him, and when he replied, his voice was tight.  
  
"In fact, I wished to talk to you about it. I have read the mission reports and I am...dissatisfied with the way you acted during the Feteb mission."  
  
Jim grimaced. Shit.  
  
"You would have died if not for Doctor McCoy."  
  
"I just wanted to save those people behind the door—"  
  
"You would have died," Spock said again, and there was definitely anger in his voice now.  
  
Jim closed his eyes. "Don't be mad at me, all right?"  
  
Spock squeezed him tightly in his arms. "I am not angry."  
  
"Could've fooled me."  
  
"I am...reasonably concerned."  
  
Jim sighed. "All right, I'm sorry. I promise I won't pull something like that again. Is that all?"  
  
"No. Doctor Kendrick informed me that she is considering a transfer to another ship."  
  
"So?" Jim said disinterestedly. "Good riddance."  
  
"I was not aware that you harbored a dislike for her. She is an excellent scientist."  
  
Jim huffed. "She's stupid," he muttered, pressing his face against Spock's neck. Mmm; he smelled amazing.  
  
"I assure you her IQ is—"  
  
"I don't care how high her IQ is. She's arrogant, illogical, and just—" Her main flaw was that she just wasn't Spock.  
  
"I see," Spock said after a moment. "Jim."  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"When Mr. Sulu reported to me as Acting First Officer, he told me that he was very happy that I was back, because he was beginning to hate you and he did not wish to hate you."  
  
Jim frowned, confused and more than a little hurt. He'd thought Sulu and he were friends. "Really? Why?"  
  
"Apparently you were absolutely intolerable. According to Mr. Sulu, you gave him impossible tasks and reprimanded him in front of everyone for not doing them in time. Is that true?"  
  
"Well, he really didn't do them in time!" Jim said defensively. "I didn't give him impossible tasks—just the usual stuff you did."  
  
"Jim, I am a Vulcan. My brain is superior to that of Humans, and I can do multiple, demanding tasks at once with no difficulty. Mr. Sulu cannot."  
  
"Oh," Jim said softly. He probably did owe Sulu an apology or two. He heaved a sigh. "Still, he wasn't good enough."  
  
"’Was not good enough,’" Spock repeated.  
  
Jim nuzzled his nose against Spock's neck. "He isn't you. You've ruined me for any other executive officer. Don't want anyone else. Only you."  
  
Spock was silent for a few moments. "I suppose… If our places were reversed, I would not wish anyone else as my captain."  
  
Jim smiled into Spock's neck. "Thanks. I love you, man--you know that, right? You're the best friend anyone could ever ask for."  
  
Spock's breathing hitched. "It is illogical to refer to me as a 'man'," he said, his voice rough.  
  
Jim snickered. "'I love you, male' just sounds stupid, don't you think?"  
  
Spock said nothing for a long while.  
  
"I return the sentiment," he said finally.  
  
Jim grinned, feeling warm and happy inside. Even though he had known that Spock cared about him more than anyone, hearing him say it aloud was quite another thing.  
  
"Thanks. Coming from the guy who used to claim that Vulcans didn't feel anything, that means a lot. I really appreciate this." Jim yawned. "I'm beat. Let's sleep?"  
  
"It is a sound suggestion. You need rest."  
  
He closed his eyes. "Night. Don't leave when I'm asleep, all right?"  
  
Spock pressed a kiss to his hair. "I shall not. Do not worry. Sleep."  
  
 _We've never been that close and affectionate before,_  Jim thought suddenly. He liked it—liked it a lot—but it also puzzled him. While he knew why he was that touchy-feely—he was still Spock-starved, after all—Jim had no idea why Spock was allowing him that.  
  
Their friendship just felt different. Maybe saying “I love you, man" had deepened their friendship? Maybe Spock, being a touch-telepath and all, sensed that he needed physical affection? Hell, it wasn't like Jim was an expert in friendships. He had only two close friends, after all.  
  
Jim moved one hand to Spock's side, feeling the strong heartbeat thrum against his fingers, and kissed his neck. "Love you," he mumbled.  
  
"And I you," Spock said, barely audible.  
  
Jim drifted to sleep with a smile on his lips.

 

 

  
* * *

 

  
  
Over the next few days, the buzz had died down a bit, and life gradually got back to normal. The dreams had stopped, no one treated Jim like a ticking bomb, and more importantly, he had Spock back.  
  
So, life was awesome, and Jim was in an accordingly happy mood when he entered the transporter room with the away team that consisted of Spock, Bones and two security officers, but his goodwill quickly evaporated as Spock stepped onto the platform.  
  
"Wait," he blurted out, grabbing Spock's arm and tugging him off the transporter pad. Everyone was looking at him like he was insane, and Jim flushed.  
  
"Er… the transporter can malfunction again," he said, painfully aware how lame it sounded. Hundreds of crewmembers had been transported safely since Spock's 'death,' Jim included.  
  
"Jim," Bones said, using his doctor voice. "Don't be ridiculous. You know how much I hate transporters, but even I know that transporter accidents are extremely rare. Actually, Spock's accident wouldn't have happened at all if someone —" Bones gave Spock a pointed look “—hadn’t screwed up."  
  
Spock pursed his lips. "I have already admitted that there was a glitch in the beta-version, so there is no need to constantly remind me of my mistake, Doctor. I assure you the final version is flawless and will not cause any malfunctions."  
  
McCoy sneered. "But you still made a mistake, Mister I-Know-Everything." He turned to Jim. "You heard him, right? No more malfunctions. The transporter is safe."  
  
Jim looked at Spock, then at the transporter platform, opened his mouth, closed it again, then looked back at Spock.  
  
 _Don't be pathetic, Kirk. Transporters are safe. Transporting is part of the job._  
  
"I shall use a shuttle, Doctor," Spock said before Jim could say anything. He looked at Jim with a soft expression in his eyes. "Do you wish to accompany me?"  
  
Exhaling in relief, Jim nodded.  
  
Bones gave Spock an incredulous look. "What? You shouldn't indulge—" he cut himself short, glancing at the security officers. "Commander, I believe it would take less time if we—"  
  
Jim interrupted him, his tone decidedly final, "Mr. Spock and I are taking a shuttle, Doctor."  
  
McCoy huffed. "Fine, but you will report to sickbay after the mission, Captain. Understood?"  
  
Jim grimaced, knowing full well what Bones intended.  
  
"Yes," he said reluctantly before following Spock.

 

  
  
* * *

 

  
  
"Your psych tests are okay—"  
  
"See? I'm not crazy or anything!" Jim moved to stand up. "Can I go now?"  
  
"Put your ass down, Jim," Bones snapped, leveling him with a look. "As I said, your psych tests are okay, but there are certain things no test can reveal— know what I mean?"  
  
Jim licked his lips. "No idea."  
  
McCoy scowled. "I'm talking about your irrational fear of losing Spock."  
  
"Well, that's only normal considering that he _died_ , right?"  
  
Bones pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jim, he didn't die. And that's not the point. I noticed your...I don't know how to call it—actually, no, I know how to call it, but you'd freak out, so let's call it…dependency on him. I noticed it before the transporter accident, too. This isn't healthy, kid."  
  
Jim looked away. "Are you a psychiatrist now too?"  
  
"It doesn't take a shrink to figure it out. And I'm talking to you as a friend, not a doctor, Jim."  
  
"I don't know what you want me to say."  
  
McCoy put his PADD aside. "Look, Jim. We've known each other for how long, exactly? Over seven years. I know you. I know that you're scared silly of losing Spock. And you were scared of it before the accident, too. Don't think I didn't notice it."  
  
Jim looked away. He didn't want to talk about this, possibly his least favorite topic, but he knew Bones wasn't going to let him go until he got an answer.  
  
"I'm gonna lose him anyway, Bones," he said with a forced smile. "In seven months, our mission is over."  
  
McCoy looked at him with a strange expression. "And? It's not like you aren't going to see him again."  
  
"But it won't be the same. He'll be assigned to another ship." Everyone knew that Spock was due for a promotion and would get his own command.  
  
McCoy stared at him. "So? By this logic, you might lose me, Chekov, Scotty, Sulu, Uhura and many others, but you aren't whining about it."  
  
"I don't whine," Jim said, scowling. "And it's different, Bones."  
  
"How is that different?"  
  
Jim shook his head, brushing a hand through his hair. "I dunno, all right? Don't get me wrong—I love you, Bones, and I love my crew too, but Spock is—he’s different."  
  
"Different," McCoy repeated slowly. "Jim, tell me again: what exactly Spock is to you?"  
  
Jim blinked, looking at him in bewilderment. "What do you mean? He's my friend."  
  
Bones had a pinched look on his face. "If he’s your  _friend,_  what is the difference between him and me?"  
  
Jim frowned. "I don't know where you're going with that. Friendships can be different, right? Everyone knows it."  
  
McCoy sighed with a long-suffering air. "I'm gonna ask you one question, and I want you to answer me honestly."  
  
"Sure," Jim said, shrugging.  
  
"Do you love Spock?"  
  
Jim blinked. "What? Of course I do!"  
  
McCoy gave him a long look, then shook his head to himself and muttered something under his breath before waving him off.

 

 

  
* * *

 

  
  
  
That night, he had the dream again.  
  
He lay in the dark for a little while, trying to convince himself that it was just a dream—just a stupid dream. It didn't work.  
  
Jim sighed and dragged himself to Spock's room. The door slid open when he touched it.  
  
Spock was seated on the floor in a cross-legged position, palms resting on his legs, the image of serenity. He opened his eyes and a frown crossed his face. "Jim? Why are you not asleep?"  
  
Jim stared at him, taking him in.  
  
Fuck it. He just couldn't take it anymore. He was _tired,_ dammit.  
  
He walked over and, straddling Spock's thighs, hugged him tightly. "Don't ever leave me, got it?" he said into Spock's neck, his voice hoarse from sleep and emotion.  
  
Spock's arms came up around him. "Did you have another nightmare?"  
  
"Yeah. Hate them. I hate them, Spock."  
  
Spock stroked Jim's back soothingly. Mmm. It felt great even through Jim's pajamas.  
  
"Do you wish to stay in my room tonight?"  
  
"…Yeah?"  
  
Spock pressed his lips to the top of Jim's head. "You may."  
  
Sliding his hands under Jim's knees, he got to his feet, taking Jim with him bridal-style. Jim laughed into Spock's neck. "Hey, put me down—that's an order, Commander. I'm not a goddamn baby."  
  
"As you wish," Spock said, gently depositing him on the bed.  
  
Jim frowned up at him. "You're not getting in?"  
  
Spock clasped his hands behind his back. "Negative. I shall return to my meditation. Sleep."  
  
Jim smirked. "C'mere.  _Baby_  wants a good-night hug."  
  
Spock gave him a long unblinking look - his equivalent of eye-rolling. "First, you are indeed not an infant. Second, it is rather odd of you to speak of yourself in the third person."  
  
Jim made an exaggerated pouty face. "Spock, get in the bed and give me a cuddle. Baby wants."  
  
Spock gave him another look. "Sometimes I think you have matured since the beginning of our mission.” He cocked his head. “This is not one of those times."  
  
Jim stuck his tongue at him, just to annoy him. Annoying Spock was always fun. "You wouldn't want me any other way. C'mere."  
  
Spock did not say anything but stretched next to him on the bed. Jim put his head on Spock's shoulder, and silence descended upon them.  
  
"What do you dream about?" Spock asked quietly, stroking Jim's hair. Jim closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation.  
  
"There’s a dark room," he said after a moment. "I know you're in there somewhere, but I can't find you no matter how hard I try. I get so frustrated that I feel like tearing my brains out. And then you just disappear. Then I wake up missing you, feeling miserable and like I'm missing something."  
  
He chuckled. "Shit, it sounds so stupid and trivial, doesn't it? I don't know why I keep dreaming about it."  
  
"Since Vulcans do not dream, I am unfamiliar with the concept. I can only hypothesize. Dreams are often triggered by memories, concerns and subconscious. Perhaps when I was assumed dead, your subconscious tried to tell you that you were indeed 'missing' something and that you had to search for me. Perhaps, subconsciously, you remembered that I was working on the transporter modification—you have seen me running the simulations, and I am positive that I mentioned the project in passing during the Togor II mission.” Spock paused. “Of course, it is only a theory."  
  
Jim thought for a few moments. "Hmm…Yeah, it's possible, actually. But why am I still having them? You're back."  
  
"Perhaps you have another reason for your concern?" Spock said quietly. "You have been troubled today."  
  
Jim sighed. Sometimes he hated how well Spock knew him. "Do we really have to talk about it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Jim sighed once again, opening his eyes and looking at the dimly lit ceiling. The soft glow of meditation candles gave the room a relaxing, intimate feel, making him want to tell Spock everything. It was Spock, right? He didn't have to worry about looking too clingy—Spock had seen him at his worst and still he was there, steadfast in loyalty… always there for him.  
  
"The mission is over soon," he muttered.  
  
"Indeed," Spock said, voice even. "In approximately seven-point-two months."  
  
Jim put a hand on Spock's belly. The fabric of his meditation robe was silky-soft; he stroked it. "I've heard they're going to give you the  _Excalibur_. It's a good ship. You'll be an awesome captain—all logical and everything." He made himself chuckle. "Maybe we'll run across each other every few years on some Starbase or—"  
  
He felt Spock's abs tense beneath his hand. "I do not wish to be a captain. I already have my Captain."  
  
Jim couldn't help but grin at that. He knew that if he were a good, unselfish friend, he would have told Spock that it was bullshit, that he would be a fool not to accept the captaincy. As it turned out, Jim was not a good, unselfish friend.  
  
"The  _Enterprise_  will be refitted for a second mission, and the refit will take a year," Jim said, keeping his voice casual, even though the mere thought made him sick. After those thirty-nine days, a year seemed like a lifetime.  
  
"I have been thinking about resuming my teaching position at Starfleet Academy. You could follow the same course of action—if you wish, of course."  
  
Jim blinked before grinning widely. "Well… yeah! Why didn't I think of it before? You're a genius, Spock!"  
  
"I know."  
  
"And humble, too."  
  
"Humility, in this case, is illogical. One should always acknowledge one's accomplishments."  
  
They fell into companionable silence.  
  
"Jim," Spock said after a little while.  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"You have an erection."  
  
Jim froze, face instantly burning. "Fuck, I'm sorry, really—it's just been too long and—" God. Even if Spock didn't kill him, Jim would never be able to look him in the eye.  
  
"Apologies are not required. You have nothing for which to be ashamed. I am aware that sometimes human males cannot help it and acquire an erection for no particular reason. It is quite understandable, since you have not had sexual congress in one-point-four-six years."  
  
Jim's eyes widened. "Wow, really? I didn't know it's been so long— Hey, are you keeping track or something?"  
  
"Negative. I have Vulcan memory, Jim. Although I must admit I am surprised. I was under the impression that humans had a way of handling such a problem."  
  
Jim laughed. "Spock, are you seriously asking me if I jack off? God, this conversation is weird. Yes, Spock, of course I masturbate, like every normal guy. I'm only twenty-nine, after all." Jim decided not to mention that he hadn't jerked off since the Night That Never Happened.  
  
"What about you?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.  
  
"Vulcans do not masturbate."  
  
Jim looked up at him. "Really?"  
  
Spock nodded, his expression inscrutable.  
  
Jim narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He knew better than anyone how sneaky Spock could be when he wanted to. "Wait, you said _Vulcans_ don't masturbate. This isn't an answer. Do you masturbate?"  
  
Spock didn't say anything. If Jim didn't know better he'd think that Spock was avoiding his gaze.  
  
Jim smirked. "You do. You so do!"  
  
Spock kept his stubborn silence.  
  
"Come on, it's nothing to be ashamed about." Jim rested his chin on Spock's bicep and stared at him curiously. "What do you think about? When you jerk off, I mean? Hot Vulcan chicks?"  
  
"I most definitely do not find young Vulcan birds arousing."  
  
Jim rolled his eyes. "You perfectly know what I mean. Come on, you tell me."  
  
"I was under the impression that you were twenty-nine, Jim. You are behaving—"  
  
"Most childishly, I know." Jim smiled at him. "But you'll be the first to freak out if I suddenly start being all Captainly and shit when we're alone. I like that I can be as childish and irresponsible as I want with you."  
  
Spock's fingers resumed stroking his hair. It was really, really nice, and Jim let out a small ”Mmmmm,” his eyelids dropping.  
  
"Vulcans do not 'freak out,'" Spock said, his voice cracking a little.  
  
"Whatever," Jim muttered, closing his eyes fully. "God, you have the best hands ever. Don't stop. Harder."  
  
Spock's hand faltered for a moment. "Harder?"  
  
"Uh-huh, with a little more pressure… Yeah, like that… Mmm, so good."  
  
Spock jerked his hand away and sat up. Confused, Jim opened his eyes. "Wait, why’d you stop? Where are you going?"  
  
Spock got out of the bed. "I must return to my meditation. Sleep."  
  
"Stop bossing me around," Jim said with a mock-glare, trying to hide how disappointed he was. "Seriously, you're even worse than Bones. I need to find better best friends."  
  
Spock seated himself in a meditation pose. "Most illogical. The term 'best' means 'most excellent in a particular group'. Therefore, you can have only one best friend, Jim."  
  
He grinned. "Is that your sneaky way of asking which of you I love best, Mr. Spock?"  
  
"Negative. I already know the answer."  
  
"Oh really?" Jim said with a smile. "So you know that I love Bones more than you?"  
  
"Lying is illogical, Jim. Sleep."  
  
Snickering, Jim rolled on his belly. "Aren't you full of yourself, Mr.Spock," he murmured and, burying his face in Spock's pillow, let himself drift off.

 

  
  
  
* * *

 

  
  
Later, Jim would blame Scotty for convincing him to try a new Andorian whiskey. Actually, no—he would blame Bones, because it was Bones' fault that Jim hadn't touched any kind of alcohol in ages and therefore got more than a little tipsy ridiculously fast.  
  
All right, maybe it was Jim's own fault, too—he probably shouldn't have drunk a whole bottle on an empty stomach, but hey, he wanted to celebrate the fact that he had managed to not freak out—not much—when Spock used the transporter today. It deserved a celebration, right?  
  
So, thanks to Scotty and Bones, Jim found himself a little inerbi—inebria—fine, drunk in his quarters, with a happy smile on his face and one hand wrapped around his cock.  
  
Life was good, life was awesome, and his hand around his cock felt awesome, too. Jim was close to shooting when he realized that there were not-so awesome beeping sounds coming from somewhere to his left.  
  
Jim frowned, confused. It took him a full minute to realize that it was his communicator. Groaning in frustration, he considered ignoring it but figured it must have been important if someone was hailing him at this hour. Sometimes being a responsible adult sucked. Majorly.  
  
Jim reached out with the other hand and flipped the communicator on. "Captain Awesome here."  
  
There was a moment of silence before a familiar voice said, "I hope I did not disturb your sleep."  
  
Jim smiled to himself happily at the voice of his favorite person in the world. "Hey, you," he murmured. "Nope, I wasn't sleeping."  
  
"Are you well, Captain? You sound… odd."  
  
"Yeah, I'm good, Spock," Jim mumbled, trying to force himself to let go of his dick. It sort of didn't work. But hey, he wasn't jerking off, right? He was just holding his dick. Really. "I feel—great. Yeah. You wanted something?"  
  
"Jim, are you inebriated?" Spock said, sounding incredulous.  
  
"Nope. Swear. Just a bit tipsy."  
  
"Perhaps I should hail you later—"  
  
"No, don't go," Jim interrupted, squeezing his cock. "I'm not that drunk. Uh, I assure you, I'm in—uh, full command of my mental faculties. You wanted something?"  
  
Spock didn’t answer for a few seconds, and Jim was maybe a little concerned – deep down, under his haze of drunkenness and lust -- that his First wouldn’t believe him, but then, just as Jim was about to return to what he’d been doing, "Indeed. I wished to ask your opinion. I am working on a project concerning..."   
  
Jim knew that Spock was talking about something that was probably important and fascinating, but he couldn't concentrate and sort of didn't particularly care at the moment.  
  
He felt more than a little horny, his cock aching—he was so close—and soon he couldn't help it and started moving his hand again. It wasn't like Spock could see what he was doing.  
  
He must have made some noise because Spock's speech came to an abrupt halt.  
  
"Jim, are you well?"  
  
Flushing, Jim chuckled. "Yeah, go on. I'm listening, really."  
  
After a moment, Spock continued. Jim tried to pay attention, but it was so hard (no pun intended). If he were less drunk, Jim might have asked himself why he was getting off on that so much, but he was drunk, he was horny, and drunken horny people did all kind of weird stuff, everyone knew it. Fuck, if only Spock knew what he was doing …  
  
Jim let out a small moan at the thought, squeezing his cock harder. He was so far gone that it took him a few seconds to realize that Spock had stopped talking. Shit, he thought but didn't—couldn't—stop, jacking himself faster and faster,almost there.  
  
"Jim, are you…are you engaged in...?" Maybe it was just Jim, but Spock sounded a little weird.  
  
"No, 'course not," Jim said, barely able to think. He was so close, so friggin' close.  
  
"I shall hail you later," Spock said quickly.  
  
"No. Talk to me. Please. Go on. I'm listening."  
  
"Jim, this is highly--" Spock began, sounding a little choked up.  
  
"Don't care," Jim said, twisting his hand just so. "I'm so... Spock."  
  
"Jim—"   
  
"Yeah, say my name. Love how you say my name."  
  
"Jim, this is… Ashayam, I cannot—"  
  
"Yeah, talk to me. Love your voice so fucking much— Love you—Fuck, I'm com—" And he came hard, his hips bucking.  
  
Only after catching his breath, he realized that the room was awfully silent. He sat up, his mind clearing a bit from the alcohol-induced fog. He wet his lips. "Spock? You still there?"  
  
"I have to—supervise an experiment. Good night."   
  
And the line went dead.  
  
Jim stared at the communicator, his stomach turning and twisting in knots. The hang-up was quickly sobering him up, and as his surroundings became sharper, clearer, a weight began to gather on his chest, threatening to crush him. He felt like throwing up. He felt like kicking himself.  
  
What the fuck had he done?

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
The next day Jim wanted to kill Scotty, kill Bones, then kill his drunken horny self, because he had the king of all hangovers and Spock was  _ignoring_  him, and Spock never ignored him. Ever. Except now, apparently. Not that Jim blamed him. After all, it wasn’t every day that your best friend jerked off while you talked to him.  
  
Jim had been barely able to meet Spock's eyes that morning, not knowing what to expect. What he hadn’t expected was that Spock would nod to him, then turn to his station and proceed to ignore him completely.   
  
Jim spent the entire shift staring at his PADD and trying not to panic. If Spock didn’t look his way, it didn't mean that he was disgusted by Jim, right? It didn't mean that he hated him now. Of course not. Spock loved him; he’d told him so.  
  
 _But that was before_ , a tiny voice in his mind said. Jim winced. Yeah, anyone would be weirded out in that kind of situation—hell,  _Jim_  would freak out like hell if he found out that, say, Bones was jerking off when they were speaking on communicator.  _Ugh._  No wonder Spock didn’t even want to look at him.  
  
Jim sighed, casting another look over his shoulder at Spock's straight back. Dammit. What was he supposed to do now?   
  
The time seemed to drag on forever, or even go backward, and by the time the shift was finally over, Jim was itching to smash something. He hoped that Spock would go with him to the mess hall, as usual, but his hope was crushed when Spock headed to Science Department with Doctor Belinski without sparing Jim a glance.  
  
Jim's heart sank a notch further.  
  
Now it was undeniable that Spock was avoiding him. Sure, Jim could always insist on having Spock's attention immediately—he was the Captain, after all—but it wouldn't be the same. If Spock did not want to talk to him, was  _disgusted_  by him, Jim sure as hell wasn't going to make him. And to be honest, Jim didn't know how to face Spock. What would he say? That he was sorry? That he'd been drunk? Spock already knew that. What else was there to say?  
  
Jim heaved a sigh, putting his tray on the table and taking a seat opposite Bones.   
  
"Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine today," McCoy said. "What's up?"  
  
"Nothi—" Jim started, before changing his mind. He needed some advice, after all.

  
He sighed. "It's Spock. We had…a fight. Now he won't talk to me."  
  
Bones stared at him for a few moments before putting his fork down. "You had a fight with Spock," he repeated slowly. "You never have fights. Not real ones."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, Bones. Of course we do."  
  
McCoy raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really? Please, refresh my memory."  
  
Jim thought for a little while, then frowned. He couldn't remember a single real fight—a fight that wasn't about Jim being illogical, irrational, childish, or careless with his life.  
  
McCoy smirked smugly. "See?"  
  
Jim thought some more, then grinned in triumph. "Nope—we had one about a year ago! During the shore leave on Genexa."  
  
Bones snorted. "Oh, that fight. The I'm-not-a-damsel-in-distress fight. Sorry, but it doesn't count, Jim."   
  
"Why is that? It was a real fight, Bones!"  
  
McCoy gave him a look. "First, I don't think your sulking about Spock saving you from a drunken Klingon counts as a fight—"  
  
"Hey, I really could take care of myself! And anyway, Spock went a little over the top by breaking the guy's nose, arm and ribs."  
  
"—and second, that 'fight' lasted for about three hours, so nope, totally doesn't count as a fight."  
  
"Your point being?"  
  
"My point being is that you're the most disgustingly perfect couple ever."  
  
Jim chuckled. "Funny."  
  
McCoy let out a long-suffering sigh. "I'm not trying to be funny here, kid."   
  
Jim made a 'whatever' gesture.

  
"So, we had a fight," he said, returning to the subject. "And now he's sort of ignoring me, and I don't know what to do."  
  
Bones looked at him skeptically. "A fight over what? And when the fuck did it happen? Yesterday, you were attached at the hip."  
  
Jim felt a blush creep up his face. "Eh… It doesn't really matter. I did something that freaked him out, and I want him to forgive me and quit ignoring me. Give me some advice here, Bones!"  
  
McCoy snorted. "Advice? Easy. Flutter your eyelashes, use your baby blues, smile at him and say you're sorry, and he'll forgive you anything."  
  
"Ha-ha, you’re hilarious, Bones, but I'm serious."  
  
"And  _I'm_  completely serious, Jim," McCoy said, taking a sip from his coffee. "The pointy-eared bastard could never resist your eyes."  
  
Jim laughed. "My baby blues, no matter how pretty they are, have no effect on Spock. He's the most objective person I know."   
  
"Right."  
  
Jim narrowed his eyes. "Drop the condescending tone, will you? I know Spock better than you."  
  
McCoy gave him a 'please' look. "Spock? The most objective person? When you smile at him, he’s a testosterone-ridden fool."  
  
Jim stared at him. "What are you hinting at, Bones?"  
  
McCoy rolled his eyes. "For God's sake, I'm not  _hinting_  anymore! Everyone except you can see that your First Officer has a huge thing for you, and vice versa.  _God._  For a genius, you're pretty far out of the loop."  
  
Jim laughed. "What? Are you nuts? We're friends—that's all! Like you and me!"  
  
Heaving an exasperated sigh, McCoy got up. "I've gotta go. I have an appointment with a patient—it's not actually in my job description to listen to  _this._  Try my advice and see what happens, all right? Then come and praise my superior observation skills."  
  
Jim rolled his eyes. "Sure, Bones—I'll do it just to prove you wrong. Spock and I are  _friends_."  
  
McCoy scowled. "Someone needs to hit you with a clue bat. Hard."

  
  
* * *

  
  
  
Despite himself, Jim couldn't get his friend's words out of his head. Obviously Bones was wrong, but his words made Jim realize that everyone thought that Spock and him were together or in love—or something. It certainly explained the pitying looks the crew had given him after Spock's 'death'; it explained why everyone had treated him like a ticking bomb.   
  
And it confused Jim like hell. Why would people think that? Spock and he were very close friends; that was all. Was that so hard a concept to grasp?   
  
Jim didn't swing that way—a few drunken blowjobs and handjobs didn't really count—and as far as he knew, Spock was straight, too. Sure, Jim loved Spock so much that it sort of scared him, but it wasn’t  _that_  kind of love. It was a platonic, friendly love. The fact that Spock had freaked out because of the jerking off thing proved that Spock didn't like him that way, too.  
  
Jim rolled his eyes. Seriously. Why did people always make everything about sex?

 

  
* * *

  
  
  
Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand to knock, then lowered it again. For the twelfth time. God, it was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.  
  
Jim set his jaw.  _Fuck it._ He had faced Klingons, Romulans and Starfleet Admiralty; he could face his best friend.  
  
He knocked.  
  
"Jim," Spock said when he opened the door, his face inscrutable. He was wearing his black meditation robe. "What do you wish?"  
  
Jim licked his lips. "May I come in?"  
  
Spock hesitated for only a moment before stepping aside.  
  
Jim walked to the center of the room before turning to Spock. He chuckled, running a hand over his forehead and through his hair. "You probably wanna punch me right now. I don't blame you."  
  
Spock clasped his hands behind his back. "I do not wish to hit you."  
  
Jim blinked. "I  _jerked off_  while talking to you and you don't want to punch me?"  
  
"Physical violence is illogical."  
  
Jim looked at him incredulously. Since the beginning of their mission, they had hurt hundreds of people and killed dozens. If he wanted, he could name the exact number—and yes, he'd been counting, though he usually tried not to dwell on it too much. He remembered. There was a lot of blood on their hands and he couldn't just shrug it off. It didn't matter that those people had been Federation enemies, criminals, terrorists—they were still sentient beings who had relationships, friends, and families.   
  
Spock seemed to understand what he was thinking. "I resort to violence only if I have no other alternative. I have no desire to do so now."  
  
"Even if you don't want to punch me, you're angry. I can see that."  
  
Spock didn't say anything.  
  
Jim sighed. "Look, I don't even know what to say. I was drunk, okay? People do the weirdest shit when they're drunk."  
  
"I have already come to the conclusion that you were highly inebriated. Obviously you would never do that in your right mind," Spock said evenly, avoiding his gaze. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down.   
  
Jim bit his lip. "You've been ignoring me all day and I don't like being ignored by you. It sucks."  
  
"I have not been ignoring you."  
  
"Yeah right. It freaked you out, didn't it?"   
  
"I have already told you that Vulcans do not 'freak out. 'Freaking out' is most illogical."  
  
Jim snorted and looked down at his shoes. God, he couldn't remember the last time they’d had such a stilted conversation.   
  
"You don't hate me now, do you?" he said, trying and failing to be nonchalant.   
  
His blood ran cold when Spock didn't answer straight away. Jim looked up to find Spock staring at him with a strange expression, and for one awful moment, he thought that Spock was going to say that yes, he did. He hated Jim.  
  
"No," Spock said, his voice clipped. "I do not hate you."   
  
But Jim could almost hear the unsaid 'But sometimes I do.' He tried to shake the uncomfortable feeling building in his gut.  _Probably just imagined it._  
  
Fuck, what could he do to fix it? Fix  _them?_  
  
Out of desperation, Jim seriously considered Bones' ridiculous advice. Well, he had nothing to lose, right? In the worst case scenario, he would just prove Bones wrong.  
  
Feeling a little weird about it, Jim stepped closer to Spock and smiled at him, holding eye-contact and everything. "I'm sorry. Please, don't be mad at me?"   
  
Jim couldn't believe it but Spock's eyes actually softened a bit, his stony mask cracking.  
  
"Jim, I am not 'mad' at you. I understand that you were inebriated and were not yourself." His voice definitely sounded warmer, too.   
  
Jim beamed at him. "Then let's hug it out and forget about the whole thing, all right? Please?"  
  
Spock didn't say anything, but he didn't say 'no' too, so Jim decided to take it as a 'yes'. He took two steps closer, and looping his arms around Spock, brought them chest to chest, enjoying the way they lined up perfectly from knees to shoulders.  
  
He sighed in relief when Spock's hands came up to rest on his lower back.   
  
"We’re OK now, yeah?" Jim whispered, rubbing his nose against his favorite place on Spock's neck. "No more avoiding me. Promise?"  
  
"I promise."   
  
"We're still best friends, right?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
Jim smiled, tightening his arms around Spock. He owed Bones one. He snickered, remembering McCoy's words. "You know, Bones told me the funniest thing today."  
  
"Indeed?" Spock said, his breath warm against Jim's ear.  
  
"Yeah. He said we're the most disgustingly perfect couple ever."  
  
Spock's entire body went stiff against him, and Jim patted him on the back. "Don't worry, I told him how ridiculous it is! You and me, together? That's crazy, right?"  
  
Spock didn't say anything for a few moments.  
  
"Indeed," he said finally, his voice very even.  
  
Jim kissed him on the neck.

 

  
  
  
* * *

  
  
It was one of those boring, dull, not-funny shifts when you had all the time in the world and nothing to do. At times like that, Jim felt like his only purpose was to sit in the command chair and look pretty.  
  
Sighing, he looked around the bridge for something entertaining, but everyone was busy doing their thing. As usual, his eyes lingered on Spock, because—well, because Spock was his favorite person to watch and pretty much his favorite person in the world. Jim had to turn his chair around, once again cursing the idiot who thought that it would be awesome to put the science station behind the command chair. Spock probably felt Jim's gaze because he turned his head to Jim almost immediately. He raised an eyebrow. Smiling, Jim winked at him. Spock threw him a slightly puzzled look before turning back to his station.  
  
Jim noticed that McKenna and Cook exchanged a knowing look. He bit his lip to suppress the laughter rising in him and grinned as an idea crossed his mind. If the crew thought Spock and he were together, Jim could mess with their heads—just for fun. He had nothing better to do, after all.  
  
Jim put his PADD on his lap, and thought for a little while before hailing Yeoman Rand. "Yeoman, please bring me a pen and some paper to the bridge," he asked quietly and saw Spock lift his head a little. He was probably surprised by his unusual request—paper had been used rarely since the invention of PADDs.  
  
When the yeoman brought what he'd asked, Jim scribbled a note on paper before folding it into a paper plane.  
  
The note read:   
  
 _I'm gonna do something now—just to mess with the bridge crew's heads—so I'm warning you, because I don't want you to freak out on me. If you play along, it will be even better!  
*puppy eyes* (Shut up, I know for sure they work on you!)_  
  
He aimed the plane at Spock's head. It bounced off his shoulder and fell to the deck. Spock whirled around, looked at the paper plane before looking up at him.  
  
Jim smiled and gestured to the plane. 'Read it,' he mouthed.  
  
Spock lifted the paper plane from the floor and stared at it with the most puzzled look Jim had ever seen on anyone's face.  _Aww, he looks so adorable_ , Jim thought, watching as Spock slowly unfolded it and read the note, then raised an eyebrow at Jim.  
  
Grinning, Jim gave him the promised puppy-eyes.   
  
From a corner of his right eye, he could see McKenna and Cook watching them with amused expressions. Only Uhura was frowning, but who knew why— Jim didn't pretend to understand how women's minds worked.  
  
Holding Spock's gaze, Jim leaned back in his chair and licked his lips obscenely. Spock's nostrils flared, his eyes widening slightly. Jim winked at him and slowly licked his lips again. In one swift move, Spock turned his chair back to his station.   
  
A few moments later, Jim received a message on his PADD.  
  
 _Captain, cease your actions immediately._  
  
Smiling, Jim scribbled another note and folded it into a plane before throwing it to Spock.  
  
 _Come on, Spock! If these crazies think we're together, let's screw with their minds and give them something to talk about. Come on. I'm bored. Just for fun!_  
  
Spock reached for the paper plane without even glancing at Jim. A minute later, he received another message on his PADD.   
  
 _I do not find it humorous and have no desire to participate in your childish pranks, Captain.  
  
Also, if you wish to communicate, you should use proper communication channels. Your behavior is highly unbecoming of a Starship Captain. You will cease this immediately._  
  
Frowning, Jim stared at Spock's straight back. Spock's reaction was much worse than he'd thought it would be. He thought Spock would secretly find it amusing, but his words sounded unusually harsh. And what was up with that 'Captain’-ing? Spock usually addressed him by his name.  
  
Eyeing Spock's back, Jim chewed on his lip. Spock had kept his promise and stopped avoiding him, but maybe he was still a bit touchy about it. Jim couldn't think of any other explanation.   
  
Since he didn't want to piss Spock off, he sent a message through his PADD.  
  
 _Fine, I'll stop if it makes you uncomfortable. Sorry._  
  
Something occurred to him right after he sent it, and he typed out another message as an afterthought.  _Oh, just remembered. Did you set up a shore leave schedule? Don't forget to put us together, like usual._

 

  
  
* * *

 

  
  
"Well?" Jim said, wondering why the hell Uhura had tugged him out of the bar. They were having such a good time.  
  
Uhura crossed her arms, leveling him with a hard stare. "Permission to speak freely, Captain?"  
  
Jim frowned, confused. "Permission granted."  
  
"Stop dicking him around," she said sharply.  
  
Jim stared at her. "Whom?"  
  
Uhura glared at him. "Are you really that obtuse, Jim? I'm talking about Spock."  
  
"Spock," Jim repeated slowly, even more confused now. "You’ll have to clarify, Lieutenant."   
  
She pursed her lips before gritting out, "Stop  _dicking_  him around. Let him find someone who will give him what he deserves. Let him breathe."   
  
Jim's eyebrows furrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
Uhura pointed towards the bar. "I'm talking about  _this._  I'm talking about you being glued to Spock's side, monopolizing his attention, flirting and  _touching_  him, then laughing it off like it's nothing! You’ve always done that, and I’ve kept my opinions to myself, but after Spock's return, it's been worse than ever! I can't watch it anymore."  
  
Jim stared at her for a few moments before chuckling. "So? All friends do that. It doesn't have to mean anything!"  
  
Huffing, Uhura shook her head. "You know, I used to think you were just hopelessly oblivious, but I was wrong—you're just being a complete asshole! You just don't  _think_ —no, you just don't  _want_  to think about his feelings. Open your eyes! I know you care about Spock—hell, everyone knows you do. You looked half-dead when he was gone."  
  
She sighed. "Stop toying with him, Jim. I'm tired of watching you flirt with him, raising his hopes up only to have them crushed over and over."  
  
Jim opened his mouth, then closed it again, feeling at a loss for words. "But Spock isn't—he doesn't—"   
  
"He is," she snapped. "He's head over heels for you, you dumbass! For god's sake, he lets you touch him in  _public_! When we were together, he  _never_  let me do it."  
  
"But—"  
  
She leveled him with a glare. "Shut up. Spock will never tell you that, so I'm speaking on his behalf, even though I know he'll be pissed off if he finds out and will probably never forgive me. Stop. Dicking. Him. Around. Got it?"  
  
Jim barked out a laugh. "Look, even if you're right and Spock really has feelings for me—which he  _doesn't_ —what are you suggesting here? That I should end our friendship? That's never going to happen!"   
  
"I'm not suggesting you to end it. Just put  _some_  distance between you two. Back off and give him a chance to find someone else. When you're around - and you're always around - Spock has eyes only for you, and when you aren't around, he's concerned about you or thinking of you, and I'm sick of that. Spock is my closest friend, and I'm worried about him."  
  
She smiled crookedly. "You know, I'm actually happy that the mission is over soon. Don't get me wrong, Jim—I respect you as my Captain and enjoy being in your crew, but I'm glad that Spock will finally get a life that doesn't revolve around Jim Kirk."  
  
Jim's jaw tightened at the mention of his least favorite topic. "Sorry to disappoint, but Spock and I are gonna be instructors at Starfleet Academy until the start of the second mission."  
  
Uhura stared at him. "Are you kidding me? Whose brilliant idea was that?"  
  
"It's none of your business, Lieutenant," Jim said coldly. He'd had enough of this nonsense. "I don't appreciate your meddling into our relationship. Spock isn't yours to worry about."  
  
She pursed her lips before saying, "Fine—keep being a selfish asshole. But if you really care about Spock, you  _will_ distance yourself from him."  
  
Jim narrowed his eyes. "We done?"  
  
"I'm done," she said before whirling around and going back into the bar.  
  
Jim followed her after a minute, and returning to their table, slid into his seat next to Spock.   
  
Spock, being his usual observant self, sensed his mood immediately, and, leaning in, said into Jim's ear over the music, "Is everything well?"  
  
Jim nodded, smiling, and put his head on Spock's shoulder.  
  
Of course Uhura was wrong. Spock was  _not_  in love with him. Romantic love was short-lived—take his mom and her endless string of husbands, or Bones and his ex-wife—while what they had was so much more.  
  
Jim put a hand on Spock's belly and huddled closer, ignoring Uhura glaring at him from the opposite side of the table.   
  
 _For god's sake, he lets you touch him in public! When we were together, he never let me do it._  
  
Jim frowned. Uhura wasn’t completely right. They never touched in public on the ship—only during shore leaves, since no one gave a damn about them here. And there was nothing unusual about their touching. They were just affectionate with each other.  
  
 _You just don't think—no, you just don't want to think about his feelings. Open your goddamn eyes! He's head over heels with you, you dumbass!_  
  
Jim tried to concentrate on the feel of Spock's warm body next him, but her words kept ringing in his ears, and a small, niggling doubt took hold in his mind. Uhura had known Spock for over eight years, and she wasn't the kind of woman to talk about something that didn't have at least some basis in truth.   
  
But Spock couldn't be in love with him... Could he? He would've told Jim if he were, right?   
  
 _Spock, admitting his romantic feelings? Right._  
  
After what felt like hours of thinking in circles, Jim had had enough. Just to put his mind at rest, he would ask Spock if he was in love with him, and then they would laugh about it together—well, Jim would laugh about it while Spock's eyes would flicker with amusement.  
  
Jim leaned into Spock's ear. "Let's go outside," he suggested, and Spock nodded. They stood up. Wrapping his fingers around Spock's wrist, Jim pulled him through the crowd towards the exit.   
  
The night was warm and pleasant, grey-blue clouds back-lit by a full moon drifted across an indigo sky. Jim took a deep breath of fresh air, and, letting go of Spock's wrist, turned to him.   
  
"Great planet for a shore-leave, huh? The climate is awesome."   
  
Spock eyed him. "You are distressed over some matter."  
  
Jim licked his dry lips. His hands were itching to do something, so he reached out and straightened the collar of Spock's shirt—the one he gave Spock for his last birthday, which Spock had accepted after the obligatory 'Vulcans-do-not-celebrate-birthdays' speech.   
  
"Do you love me?" he blurted out.  
  
Spock's eyebrows furrowed. "You know that I do."  
  
Jim shifted from one foot to the other. Laughed, then smiled. "I know. Sorry, I formulated my question incorrectly. You'll probably think I'm crazy for asking this, but…You aren't in love with me, are you?"  
  
Jim had expected to get a raised eyebrow in response, to get some variation of 'You-Are-Most-Illogical', but Spock just stared at him, his face suddenly going tense.   
  
As seconds ticked by, Jim's amused smile faded, his mouth slowly falling open. Spock couldn't be— he couldn't be— of course he would deny this.  
  
Jim waited, and waited, until it became obvious that Spock wasn't going to deny anything.  
  
Spock wasn't going to deny that he was in love with him. Spock  _was_  in love with him.  
  
Jim turned around and ran.

  
* * *

  
  
He returned to the ship four hours later, disgustingly sober and feeling like crap. A transporter technician told him that the Commander returned aboard about four hours ago, and the ship's computer informed him that Spock was in his own room.  
  
His stomach tied up in knots, Jim headed to Spock's quarters.   
  
Spock had every goddamn right to punch him in the face. Freaking out and running off when your best friend basically told you that he was in love with you was probably the most asshole-ish thing to do.   
  
And he  _was_  an asshole.   
  
Uhura was absolutely right—he'd never really thought of Spock's feelings. Looking back, there had been a lot of little weird things about Spock's behavior that should have clued him in. He just never paid attention, not even bothering to think why Spock let him touch him so freely—and touched back—while he kept everyone else at arm's length.   
  
Spock was  _in love_  with him.  
  
Even after hours of mulling over, the thought still freaked him out a little. People fell out of love all the time—at least, that was the impression Jim had. Did it mean that Spock would stop loving him some time in the future?   
  
Damn it, he'd never felt so insecure about his relationship with Spock—not even two weeks ago after the memorable 'jerking-off incident'. Actually, what was up with that? Why had Spock freaked out if he was in love with him and wanted him that way?   
  
Jim felt his face heat up at the thought. Spock wanted to have sex with him. His dick found the idea sort of appealing, which confused Jim to no end, because he was straight—well, mostly.   
  
Jim's lips twisted into a crooked smile. Right, as if it mattered; as if he cared that Spock had a dick instead of a pussy. To tell the truth, if Spock wanted to sex him up, Jim would only ask how Spock would like to have him.  
  
Yes, he was  _that_  pathetic. There was no way in hell he was going to lose Spock, so if he had to have sex with Spock in order to keep him, Jim would do that happily.  
  
Jim knocked on Spock's door. A long minute later, the door slid open, revealing Spock still wearing the same outfit. His face was completely blank.  
  
"Hey," Jim said, licking his lips. "May I come in?"  
  
"It is eight minutes past four in the morning, Captain," Spock said coldly. "Can it not wait?"  
  
His stomach twisted; Jim set his jaw. "No, it can't. You weren't sleeping anyway, so let me in."  
  
Spock didn't move.  
  
"I can make it an order, you know," Jim said in a low voice.  
  
Spock raised an eyebrow. "In fact, you cannot. According to the regulation number—"  
  
"Spock," Jim said softly. "Please. I have a lot to say if you're willing to listen. I want to explain my reaction."  
  
Spock stared at him for a moment before going back into the room without a single word. Jim took it as an invitation and followed him in.  
  
They looked at each other.  
  
"You wished to explain. Explain."  
  
Jim wiped his sweating hands on his pants.  
  
"I freaked out, okay?" he said softly. "I didn't expect it at all and needed some time to think—to sort it out in my head, you know?"  
  
Spock's expression stayed blank.  
  
Jim shifted on his feet, looked up, looked down, shifted again. "Look, I'm sorry for running off like that, okay? I'm ready to talk now—"  
  
"There is nothing to talk about, Captain," Spock said flatly. "I have no desire to do so."  
  
Jim bit his lip. "Spock, please. Don't do that. Don't shut me out like this. I don't wanna lose you. You're my best friend and I'll do  _anything_  you want for you. If you want me that way, I'm okay with that, really. Just—" Jim winced. It came out worse than it sounded in his head.   
  
"Leave my quarters," Spock said through his teeth.  
  
"Look, let me explain," Jim said quickly, stepping closer to Spock. "I didn't mean it like that. I don't want to do it out of obligation or something. I wanna do it because I care about you and if you want—"  
  
Spock glared at him. "I believe there is a human expression that seems to fit—'I do not need a pity fuck'. And I have already informed you to vacate this room."  
  
Jim heaved an exasperated sigh, searching for the right way to put what was on his mind out in words. He seemed to be choosing the wrong ones and only pissing Spock more.  
  
He stepped closer and touched Spock's arm, but Spock jerked it away. Jim stared at him helplessly. Spock had never recoiled from his touch before.  
  
"I'm not offering a goddamn pity fuck. I didn't mean it like that."   
  
Jim lowered his voice, holding Spock's gaze. "I love you, you idiot. You're the world to me. I'd do anything for you—even blow off the  _Enterprise_  if I have to, and you know how much I love the girl. Compared to that, having sex with you isn't exactly a hardship for me."  
  
Spock's eyes didn't warm up even one-tenth of a degree.   
  
"’Not a hardship,’" he repeated flatly. "If you think I will accept your offer made out of loyalty and affection you hold for me, then you do not know me at all. Vacate my quarters. Right. Now."  
  
Jim reached for him. "Spock, come on—I'm willing to do it, happily—"  
  
"There is a difference between willing and wanting," Spock said, his voice rough and tight. "I have no desire—" A muscle in his jaw flexed. "No. It would be a falsehood to say that I have no desire to engage in sexual relations with you when you are only willing. However, it is not what I wish. I would never do such a thing."  
  
"Spock—"  
  
"I do not require your pity. And do not worry: I am quite capable of not letting my...affections for you interfere with our friendship. I am...content to have you as my friend and do not wish to lose our friendship. I can seek physical release elsewhere, as I have done before."  
  
Jim's mouth fell open. "What? You—you had sex—you're gonna have sex with someone else?"  
  
Spock gave him a cold look. "Jim, I am a healthy adult male. I have certain needs."  
  
Jim stared at him, a sickening feeling twisting his insides. "But—but you're in love with  _me_!" ME, he wanted to yell, feeling oddly hurt and betrayed.  
  
Spock's jaw clenched. "Jim, I am not made of steel. I spend approximately eighty-seven-point-four percent of my awake time with you, and you are very physically affectionate."  
  
Jim glowered at him. "So what, you have to go fuck someone else? Who is it? I bet it's Lieutenant Marks, isn't it? I knew I saw him touch your arm a few days ago!"  
  
"It is not Lieutenant Marks," Spock said, giving him a strange look. "I do not understand why you are angry. You should be pleased to know that I would not disturb you with my affections."  
  
Jim could only stare at him, his jaw working. Really, why did he feel so angry? So hurt?  
  
He had no right to be angry. Spock and he were friends. If anything, Spock's promise that his feelings wouldn't interfere in their friendship should have made him relieved. He should have been happy that Spock would fuck it out of his system somewhere else, with someone else.  
  
But he was not. He was far from being happy. Instead, he felt angry, hurt and cheated on.  
  
"Oh fuck," Jim said when it hit him. He laughed. Holy shit, he was an  _idiot._  How could he have been so obtuse?  
  
"Jim?" Spock said, frowning slightly.  
  
Jim stared at him, his eyes drifting over his face, taking in every detail, every line, and every curve - as if seeing him for the first time.  
  
God, he'd been so stupid. He  _was_  in love with Spock. He just hadn't been able to name it, because he'd never been in love. And maybe—just maybe—he was afraid to call it romantic love.  
  
A straight guy wouldn't jerk off to the sound of his best friend's voice and thinking of said friend, no matter how sleep-deprived or inebriated he was.   
  
No straight guy would be willing to have sex with his male friend only because said friend had feelings for him. If it were Bones in Spock's place, Jim wouldn't have even thought of having sex with him no matter how much he loved Bones—it would be like having sex with his brother. All the stuff he had said about willing to have sex for his friend's sake was a load bullshit.   
  
He wanted Spock. He wanted to touch Spock everywhere, kiss him everywhere and to have Spock to touch him. He didn't want someone else's hands on his Spock. Just the idea of Spock kissing, touching, fucking someone else made him sick to his stomach. Jim didn't want to be  _friends_ with Spock while some fucker would have Spock in the most intimate of ways.  
  
He wanted Spock. He loved Spock. He was  _in love_  with Spock.  
  
"I'm in love with you," he blurted out and looked at Spock hopefully.  
  
Spock flinched like he'd been hit, his nostrils flaring. "Vacate my quarters," he said, his voice dangerously even.  
  
Jim blinked, then blinked again."Wha—"  
  
"Immediately," Spock snapped, his face turning stony.  
  
"But—"  
  
A muscle in Spock's jaw started ticking. "Jim, if you treasure our friendship, you will vacate my room, and you will not bring up the matter again."  
  
Jim opened his mouth, then closed it, noticing the way Spock's hands were clenched at his sides.  
  
Turning around, he walked out of the quarters. As the door slid shut behind him, Jim leaned against it, staring blankly at the opposite bulkhead.

 

  
  
* * *

  
  
  
"You look like crap," Bones said when Jim plumped down in a chair by his desk.  
  
"Good to know I look how I feel."  
  
"What's up, Jim?"  
  
Putting his elbows on the desk and leaning forward, Jim sighed. "Knowing the ship's gossip mill, you've probably heard already. Spock hates me now."  
  
"Well, I've heard many rumors, kid. The one thing all those rumors have in common is that you two had a fight and you're the 'bad guy'."  
  
Jim scowled. "Why the hell everyone thinks I'm the bad guy?"  
  
"Because 'the Captain is trailing after the Commander like a sad kicked puppy, while the Commander completely ignores him'?"   
  
"I'm not looking like a goddamn sad puppy."  
  
McCoy snorted. "Jim, you have exactly three modes: overexcited puppy, sad kicked puppy and puppy-dog-eyes. Oh, and sorry—forgot about your special Spock-is-dead-and-I-wanna-curl-up-in-my-bed-and-die mode."  
  
"Ha-ha. You're hilarious, Bones. My life is ruined, and you're making jokes."  
  
McCoy rolled his eyes. "Stop being such a drama queen, Jim. What’s going on?"  
  
Jim let out a sigh. "Long story short, Spock told me he's in love with me, I freaked out and ran off, then I went to him and told him that I'm willing to have sex with him in the name of our friendship, he got pissed off and told me he didn't need a pity fuck and could always fuck someone else, which made me jealous as hell, which in turn made me realize that I'm kinda in love with him. I told him that and he kicked me out."  
  
McCoy just stared at him.  
  
Jim smiled crookedly. "I know—I'm an idiot."  
  
"Glad we agree on something. Not to be obnoxious, but I told you so, Jim. Many times. Hell, if I got a credit every time I told you what I think of your 'friendship', I'd be the richest doctor in the world. Do you have any goddamn idea..." Bones trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief. "So he's ignoring you now?"  
  
Jim sighed. "Yeah. It's like the first days of the mission all over again. You know, I forgot what he was like before we became friends. He's not rude or anything—just cold and detached. I don't understand what's going on in his head. Why is he so angry with me? Why didn't he believe me?"  
  
Bones pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, Jim, I really want to help you, but how would I know what's going on in the hobgoblin's head? Maybe you should try asking Uhura - she's known Spock longer than we have, and she's his friend. And more importantly, she is a  _woman_. Women know about stuff like this."  
  
Jim looked at him hopefully. "You think so?"

 

  
  
* * *

 

  
  
Uhura crossed her arms over her chest.   
  
"So let me get it straight, Captain. You told Spock that you'd do  _anything_  to keep your friendship with him, and after he declined you generous offer of a pity fuck, you told him that you're in love with him."  
  
"Um… yeah, more or less."  
  
Uhura huffed, shaking her head. "And you're still wondering why he didn't believe you?"  
  
Jim sighed. "Okay, maybe you have a point."  
  
"Maybe?"  
  
Jim gritted his teeth. "Look, would you stop it? I already admitted that you were right and I was a moron. I need an advice here, not another person to make fun of me."   
  
She snorted. "I'm not making fun of you. I just can't believe how emotionally retarded men can be--"  
  
"Wow, thanks."  
  
"You're welcome," she said with a smirk before her mood darkened again. "Jim, you should've chosen your words more carefully. He's a Vulcan. He's not very good at dealing with open emotions. He made himself vulnerable by telling you, and you stomped on his feelings. No wonder he shut you out."   
  
Jim sighed. "I know that, all right? Some  _useful_  advice would be appreciated."  
  
"The only advice I can give you is to be as stubborn as he is. You have to make him listen to you. Be honest about your feelings and what you want from your relationship. Be clear and direct."  
  
Jim eyebrows furrowed. "Not very useful. I was honest with him and he kicked me out."  
  
She gave him a pointed look. "But you weren't stubborn enough."

 

  
* * *

  
  
  
"What are you doing here, Captain?"  
  
Spock's face was blank, his eyes betraying nothing as he stared impassively at Jim sitting on his bed.  
  
Jim cleared his throat. "I've been waiting for you."   
  
The door slid shut behind Spock.  
  
"I do not recall inviting you to my quarters," Spock said, his voice laced with ice.  
  
Jim swallowed, reminding himself that, underneath the cold mask Spock wore, the half-Vulcan loved him. He had nothing to be nervous about.  
  
Jim gave Spock a cocky smile. "Well, I invited myself. I have a Captain's override code for a reason, you know."  
  
Spock's eyes narrowed. "I do not desire your presence. Vacate my bed and my quarters."  
  
Jim wet his lips. "No."  
  
Spock made a step closer. "Vacate my quarters," he said, his voice clipped.   
  
"Make me," Jim said with a challenging smirk, feeling a surge of arousal flare through him.   
  
Spock's nostrils flared. "I do not understand what you are attempting to achieve by this behavior."  
  
"We didn't finish our conversation."  
  
"I have already informed you that I have no desire to discuss the subject further. There is nothing to discuss that—"  
  
"I'm in love with you," Jim said softly.  
  
Spock's jaw tightened. "You will cease this immediately. I told you that our friendship would not be impacted by my affections for you. I am quite capable of controlling myself. You do not have to do that in order to maintain our friendship."  
  
Jim jumped to his feet. "For fuck's sake- our friendship is already affected, Spock! You've been treating me like a piece of shit since last night!"  
  
"I have done no such thing, Captain."  
  
Jim let out a breath through his teeth, trying to rein in his temper. "Yeah, sure,  _Commander._  Spock, there's no way in hell we can pretend that yesterday didn't happen." He met Spock's eyes and lowered his voice. "And more importantly, I don't  _want_  to pretend that it didn't happen ,or not acknowledge the elephant in the room—"  
  
"There is no such creature in this room."  
  
Spock looked so genuinely puzzled that Jim couldn't help but smile. He chuckled, "God, I love you. I'm completely honest here. I love you— _that_  way. I think on some level I've been in love with you for a long time, but I was just too thick to realize it. Why don't you believe me?"  
  
Spock's eyes softened a little, but not much. "I do believe that you believe what you are saying. You convinced yourself that you have romantic feelings for me, but I am ninety-seven-point-two percent certain that you are confusing affection with love. Cease lying to yourself, Jim. You cannot alter your natural predilections simply to appease me. You are not sexually attracted to males."  
  
Jim raised his eyebrows. "Who said I'm not attracted to males? I'm not blind. Sure, my experience is pretty limited when it comes to guys, but believe me, your cock wouldn't be the first I'll touch."  
  
Spock's eyes narrowed. He didn't look pleased.  
  
Jim blinked, then laughed. "Are you jealous? If it makes you feel better, I hardly remember it, 'cause I was drunk every time."  
  
Spock's lips folded into a thin line. "You were inebriated during those encounters. You were not yourself."  
  
"What, you think I can't get it up for you?"  
  
Spock’s silence said everything. Jim's mouth went slack. "Are you kidding me?"  
  
Pursing his lips, Spock looked away.  
  
Jim eyed him, chewing on his bottom lip. Should he or shouldn't he?  
  
"All right, confession time," he said, feeling his face flush. Spock looked back at him. Jim ran a hand through his hair. "I—er—jerked off—sort of—to your log, thinking of you, when you were assumed dead."   
  
He cringed as the words left his mouth.  _Way to go, Kirk,_  he congratulated himself. Now Spock probably thought he was sick. "Um, just once," Jim added, blushing furiously, and fought back the urge to squirm under Spock's unblinking gaze.   
  
"It does not mean anything," Spock said finally, his voice tight. "You were emotionally compromised and your mind was simply confused. You are still confused."   
  
"Don't tell me what I feel, okay? I figured it out kinda late, but I did figure it out, and I know what I feel."  
  
"You are merely deluding yourself."  
  
"I'm not," Jim growled.  
  
Spock's eyes flashed with something. "Prove it."  
  
Jim blinked. "What? How? You mean a mind-meld?"  
  
"Negative," Spock said, his face inscrutable. "I do not doubt that you love me, Jim—I can sense it every time we touch. I do doubt that you desire me. Mind meld allows only emotional and thought transference, and sexual desire is neither an emotion nor a thought."  
  
"Right," Jim said slowly, not understanding where Spock was heading. "So what can I do to prove I want you?"  
  
Spock planted his feet apart and raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
Jim stared at him. And stared at him. "You've got to be kidding me."  
  
"I never 'kid,' Jim," Spock said evenly, clasping his hands behind his back. "If you indeed desire me, it should not be…a  _hardship_  for you to perform oral intercourse upon myself."  
  
Jim looked at him incredulously. "You're being an asshole right now - you know that, right?"   
  
Not that he didn't deserve it, but still. He'd never thought Spock could be so—actually, no, he knew Spock could be a manipulative asshole when he wanted, but Spock never acted like that towards him. Jim couldn't deny that some part of him liked it—that his dick liked it. A lot.  
  
So Spock expected that he would freak out? Well, Spock was in for a big surprise.  
  
Jim smirked and walked towards him. Spock's eyes widened slightly, but his face stayed blank as Jim sank to his knees before him.  
  
"You thought I'd chicken out, huh?" Jim said with a smile before shifting his gaze from Spock's face to his crotch. His palms suddenly felt a bit clammy, and he wiped them against his jeans.   
  
He'd never given a blowjob -- what if he was bad at it? Or worse, what if he didn't like it? Being a touch-telepath, Spock would know if he didn't. What if Spock was right and he really deluded himself and wasn't really into guys?  
  
 _Quit freaking out_ , he told to himself. There was nothing to freak out about. So what if he was inexperienced? Blowjobs were like pizza: even the bad ones were pretty good.  
  
"Get to your feet, Jim," Spock said, his voice very even, as if didn't have the impressive bulge in his pants. Jim looked up to meet his eyes and noted with satisfaction that Spock's pupils were dilated. "Simply admit that I am right."  
  
Jim smirked at him. "No way," he said and slowly rubbed his cheek against the bulge, inhaling Spock's scent. Spock drew in a sharp breath, his body going rigid.   
  
"Well, well, what do we have here?" Jim murmured with a smile, mouthing Spock's cock through the fabric. His own cock twitched in his jeans, quickly hardening, and Jim wanted to laugh. Spock couldn't be more wrong.  
  
"Jim," Spock grated out. "Cease this. It is" – Jim unfastened his fly – "unnecessary. I do not want you to do it because you wish to prove to me that you are right."  
  
Jim pulled Spock's dick out and stared at it.   
  
"It's not fair, you know," he said, unable to tear his gaze away. "You're already perfect in every possible way—this part just isn’t fair." He wrapped his fingers around the cock and lightly slid down to the base and back up to the tip. Spock made a low sound.   
  
Grinning, Jim leaned in and breathed in Spock's musk, the scent of aroused male overlaid by something so elementally  _Spock_. It smelled amazing, and he tentatively licked the head. He could taste Spock's pre-ejaculate on his tongue and it felt good—he loved the taste and the feel of it. He licked the cockhead again.  _Mmm; not bad at all._  
  
Fully hard now, Jim started pressing open-mouthed kisses along the length of Spock's dick. He looked up, making sure his eyes stayed connected to Spock's as he went in for an ice-cream-cone lick from the base to the tip.   
  
Spock growled and jerked him up to his feet so fast that Jim felt dizzy for a second. It was a good thing Spock's arms came up around him, pulling him flush to his body.  
  
"Hey," Jim said softly, leaning his forehead against Spock's. He smiled. "I had my mouth on your dick and we haven't even kissed yet. We should fix this, don't you think?"  
  
Spock closed his eyes, his body so taut it felt as if he was about to snap. "Are you certain, Jim?" he whispered, his breath brushing Jim's lips.   
  
"Yeah, silly," Jim murmured, forehead resting against forehead, nose against nose. Closing the small distance between their lips seemed natural, unstoppable, and Jim did it. With a growl, Spock kissed him back, and the rest of the world fuzzed out.  
  
He'd never been kissed like that before—like Spock was drowning, and he was air -- like Spock was trying to devour all of him and couldn't get enough. And Jesus fucking Christ, it was  _Spock_  who was kissing him—his Spock—and Jim was shaking, fucking  _shaking_  with want, needing more of him and tugging him closer.   
  
What happened next was lost in a blur of lips and hands, strokes and caresses, nips and grabs.   
  
Some time later—minutes, hours maybe—Jim found himself naked on his back on the bed, watching as Spock, also naked and propped up on his elbows over Jim, stared at his body with glazed eyes. Jim felt himself grow harder under Spock's roaming gaze. It made him feel beautiful, wanted and  _loved_ —a feeling he'd never associated with sex before.  
  
"Like what you see?" Jim said with a smile, looking down at Spock's hard dick as his mouth watered. He sort of wanted to get his mouth on it again.  
  
"Indeed," Spock said hoarsely, meeting his eyes. "But… I have a confession to make."  
  
Jim licked his lips. "What confession?"   
  
"While I find your mind your most attractive attribute, I have an illogical fascination with your certain physical attributes."  
  
"Yeah?" Jim said, smiling. "Is that my cocksucker lips?"   
  
Spock's gaze shifted to his mouth, his cheekbones tinged with green. "One of them. Your lips are very aesthetically and sensually pleasing. They are also capable of performing sixty-eight types of smiles."  
  
Jim blinked a few times, then laughed. "Aw, you categorized my smiles! Aren't you adorable, Commander."  
  
Spock did not look like he appreciated being called adorable. "You will not think that I am 'adorable' when you learn about the other part of your body I find exceptionally fascinating." And without any warning, he flipped Jim on his stomach.   
  
"Wha—" Jim gasped when Spock's hands cupped his buttocks, kneading them gently. He chuckled. "My ass? Not very original, Spock."  
  
"Your backside is most pleasing to the eye. The fact that you tend to wear unnecessarily tight pants does not help my desire for you. I estimate that my efficiency, due to this distraction, is lowered by approximately eighteen percent."  
  
"Mmm, you ogle my ass during work time? Not very professional of you, Commander—Oh." Spock began pressing open-mouthed kisses down his spine, and Jim sagged into the mattress.   
  
"I wished to do it for four-point-three years," Spock said hoarsely into his skin, his hands still on Jim's ass.  
  
"Four-point—" Jim's eyes flew open. "But you were still with Uhura!"  
  
"Indeed," Spock said, as he sucked his way down Jim’s spine and began laving the dimples above his ass. "She ended our relationship because she noticed how much you…distracted me."  
  
"Is it bad that I don't feel sorr— fuck—stop it, stop it—oh fuck…"  
  
Spock's tongue pressed forward, tracing around his hole, and Jim let out a long moan. Part of his mind was revolted that Spock's tongue was in his ass—thank fucking god he'd taken a shower before coming here—but his dick was extremely interested in the proceedings and his thighs spread wider of their own volition.   
  
Spock's tongue slid in deeper, and Jim made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, rutting against the mattress, his cock hard and leaking against the sheets, begging for friction. Christ,  _nothing_  should feel this fucking good.   
  
"More," he gasped, shifting his body until he was on his knees, legs spread and head hung low. He was well aware how he probably looked—he'd fucked enough women 'doggie style' to know how arousing the sight was.   
  
He pressed back against Spock's face, fists clenching in the sheets, as Spock fucked him with his tongue. _Goddammit_ , his asshole was twitching, closing around Spock's tongue again and again, sucking on it, pulling it in deeper, clenching for something hard to grab hold of.   
  
He was shaking so hard, and on edge and unable to come. His asshole  _ached_ , and Spock's tongue wasn't big enough, couldn't get deep enough and Jim needed  _more._  
  
"Oh. Oh fuck. Spock. Put a finger in me—or two—or fuck me. Please.  _Fuck_."  
  
Spock pulled away from him, and Jim heard him retrieve something from the drawer. It took only moments, but it felt like an eternity, his hole so fucking empty, before Spock's lubed fingers slid inside him. His asshole stretched around them, but it felt good—so fucking good.   
  
Jim groaned as they brushed against something inside of him. "More," he gasped, pushing back onto the fingers as Spock began to work them in and out, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't fucking  _enough_.   
  
"Now," he croaked.  
  
"Not yet," Spock said hoarsely, adding another finger.   
  
"C'mon,  _please,_ " Jim groaned out, fucking himself on the fingers. "I'm ready, swear."  
  
"You are not."  
  
"I kinda hate you right now. You're doing it on purpose, aren't you? You're still mad at me—oh."   
  
Spock withdrew his fingers and flipped him onto his back. Shoving a pillow under Jim's hips, he positioned himself between his legs, dark eyes glazed with desire.  
  
Jim's eyes widened as the slick cockhead  _pushed_. They stared at each other as Spock slowly rocked into him.  
  
" _Oh,_ " Jim breathed out when Spock was fully inside. He gripped Spock's arms, taking deep breaths, his thighs trembling.  
  
"Are you well?" Spock grated out, his muscles rigid under Jim's fingers. Spock's body was tense as hell, as if he was fighting for control.  
  
Jim gave him a dazed smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Hurts a bit, but it… it's nothing.  _Move._ "  
  
Spock began moving carefully, his eyes on Jim. There was so much tenderness, want, and affection on his unusually open face that it stole Jim's breath. Swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat, he pulled Spock down for a kiss.   
  
Spock growled, and, biting Jim's lip, started fucking his mouth in time with his thrusts, his tongue delving deeply, and all Jim could do was hold on and ride with the storm. He completely lost track of time, his whole world narrowing to  _Spock, Spock, Spock_ , his hot mouth, his dick, his hands roaming all over Jim's body.   
  
His asshole was twitching around Spock's cock as Spock pounded into him without restraint, kissing and biting Jim's neck and shoulders. His dick was near bursting and he tried to touch himself, but Spock didn't let him.  
  
"Spock—I can't," he croaked after what felt like hours of relentless fucking. "Wanna come… please."  
  
"No," Spock growled, kissing him hard and hitting his prostate over and over. Jim cried out, digging his fingers into Spock's shoulders. "Can't come—like that—too fucking much."   
  
"You can—for me," Spock said and gave a brutal thrust against Jim's prostate. "Jim.  _Come_."  
  
And with a groan, Jim did, his body shuddering as his orgasm ripped through him.  
  
When he came back to his senses, he was lying on his back, his head on Spock's shoulder, Spock's hand resting on Jim's belly.  
  
"I didn't faint," Jim said, just to clear things up. At least, he was pretty sure that he hadn't passed out before Spock came.  
  
"Of course not," Spock agreed, pressing a kiss to his damp hair.  
  
Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Jim looked up at him. His breath caught when he saw a blissed-out expression on Spock's face, his flushed cheeks, lips swollen from his kisses.  
  
 _I put that look on his face,_  Jim thought, feeling warmth fill his chest, almost dizzy with happiness.  
  
Spock gently traced a finger over Jim's cheekbone and jaw line, eyeing his face, and Jim wondered what he looked like to Spock. He smiled. "I'm gonna kill you if you say that I'm not into guys after  _that._ "   
  
Spock's lips twitched slightly, and chuckling, Jim pulled him down for a soft kiss. When they broke apart, they just looked at each other for a long while.  
  
"I love you," Jim said, running the tip of a finger along Spock's eyebrow. He smiled thoughtfully. "I have no idea when it happened. I guess it was always there, within reach. I just didn't know there was even a possibility of us being together."   
  
Spock raised the eyebrow that wasn't held in place by Jim. "Most illogical. There is always a possibility."  
  
Jim pursed his lips into a mock pout. "You're in love with me. You're supposed to agree with my every word, you know."  
  
"I have been in love with you for three-point-one-four years. It is illogical of you to expect me to behave differently only because I confessed my affections for you."  
  
Jim frowned. "What happened three-point-one-four years ago? I can't remember."  
  
Spock kissed a corner of his mouth. "Nothing in particular. It was quite an ordinary day."  
  
"Yeah?" Jim said with a smile. "What, you just looked at me and thought, 'I love this bundle of perfection'?"  
  
Spock stared at his smiling face with a strange expression on his face.  
  
"Affirmative," he said before rolling on top of Jim.

 

  
* * * 

 

  
  
"Why the hell is everyone looking at us with smiles on their faces?" Jim said, darting another look around the mess hall as they sat down opposite Bones.  
  
McCoy looked between Spock and Jim. "They're just happy their mommy and daddy made up, is all."  
  
Jim grinned. "Aw, Bones, does that mean you're our kid too?"  
  
Bones sneered. "Sure,  _Mommy._ "  
  
Jim scowled at him. "Why am I Mommy?" he grumbled under his breath. "I'm the Captain!"  
  
"So," Bones said in a voice he probably thought was very casual. He took a sip from his coffee. "Heard an interesting rumor this morning."  
  
"Oh really?" Jim said, chewing on his toast. He squirmed a little in his chair, trying to find comfortable position. He caught Spock looking at him with something akin to smugness. Jim felt himself blush. Spock curled two fingers around Jim's; Jim blushed harder.  
  
"We are not interested in idle gossip, Doctor," Spock said, his face completely inscrutable, as though he weren't stroking his fingers against Jim's under the table.   
  
Bones continued as if not hearing him, "Apparently, last night someone at Security just  _happened_  to be checking on the crew's whereabouts—which is very admirable of Security officers, of course—and just  _accidentally_  checked the Captain's location on the sensors. Much to the unnamed security officer's surprise, the Captain stayed in the First Officer's room until seven in the morning. Interesting rumor, isn't it?"  
  
Snorting, Jim rolled his eyes. "Quit listening to gossip, Bones. Oh, and tell Cupcake that if he keeps 'accidentally' checking on the Captain and First Officer's whereabouts, I'll kick his ass--"  
  
Bones gave him a 'please' look.  
  
"--or I'll have my personal Vulcan wipe the hell out of him," Jim added, winking at Spock and receiving a raised eyebrow in return.  
  
McCoy looked from Jim to Spock, then sighed. "I guess this means you two are together now?"   
  
Jim bit his lip to keep back the smile that threatened to stretch his lips. Judging by McCoy's expression, he failed.  
  
"Yeah. We kinda..." Jim met Spock's eyes, feeling his cock stir at the thought of last night. Spock's eyes darkened.  
  
"Oh, for heaven's sake—if you keep doing googly eyes at each other, I'm gonna throw up!"  
  
Jim quickly looked away from Spock and chuckled. "Bones, aren't you happy that your mommy and daddy are happy?" he teased, subtly—at least, he hoped it was subtle—shifting closer to Spock so that their legs pressed together under the table.  
  
McCoy snorted. "I'm floating on cloud nine, Jim. And by the way, if you think you're being stealthy, kid, you're wrong. You aren't fooling anyone here, and it's pointless anyway—you could sit on the hobgoblin's lap and no one would even blink."  
  
Jim snorted a laugh. "Come on, quit exaggerating. Maybe I was touchy-feely, but I never went as far as sitting on Spock's  _lap_."   
  
McCoy gave him a look. "The shore leave on Banbau, kiddo."   
  
"I was drunk!" Jim said, not at all defensive.  
  
McCoy smirked. "It still doesn't change the fact that you insisted on sitting on Spock's lap because 'It's the most comfy place in the world, Bonesy' and refused to leave it all night."  
  
"I was drunk!" Jim repeated. "Spock, tell him I was drunk!"  
  
"Indeed, he was," Spock confirmed, and Jim beamed at him. Spock's lips twitched up. "Jim tends to behave most curiously when he is inebriated."  
  
Jim flushed. "Oh, shut up."  
  
"I don't even want to know," Bones muttered.  
  
Spock looked way too amused for Jim's liking. Jim narrowed his eyes, but then smirked. Leaning in to Spock, he murmured, "Oh come on, like you weren't turned on listening to me jerk off. I bet you even touched yourself, didn't you?"   
  
The tip of the ear flushed green, and unable to resist, Jim gave the ear a lick. Only when Spock went rigid against him, he realized what he'd done. Shit.  
  
His stomach sinking, Jim pulled away and looked around in the vain hope that no one had noticed. But  _of course,_ with his luck, every goddamn crewman was watching them with a smile. Groaning, he covered his face with his hands.   
  
 _Well, at least we won't have to hide_ , he tried to comfort himself, as if he hadn't just licked his First Officer's ear—his  _Vulcan_  First Officer's ear—in front of half of the crew. He was one dead starship captain because Spock was going to kill him.   
  
Wincing, Jim raised his head and looked at Spock.   
  
Spock leveled him with a hard stare. Remembering Bones' advice, Jim put on his best puppy-dog eyes.   
  
"Um, don't strangle me?" he managed, smiling sheepishly at him. He must be losing his touch, though because a muscle in Spock's jaw started ticking, which wasn't a good sign at all.  
  
"Spock? Spock, you love me, remember?"  
  
"Captain, I need to…  _speak_ to you. In private," Spock said with admirable self-control, burning holes in Jim.  
  
 _Oh._  Jim's cock went from soft to rock hard in a matter of seconds.   
  
He licked his suddenly dry lips. "Sure, Commander."  
  
  
The End


End file.
